Steele The Story of A Sled
by RSteele82
Summary: (Canon) It's Christmas 1994 and a new Steele tradition is inspired by the story of a sled. BigFan59 - we aren't in Greece, but your favorite family is coming to visit!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: My third, and final, Christmas gift to my readers in 2018. Although this story takes place, chronologically, after Holting Back, despite the fact it is being published prior to the conclusion of Holting Back, it has been written with care to reveal no surprises for its predecessor. This story will take 3-4 'uploads' to complete._

* * *

 _ **The Canon Series**_

 _ **It's Christmas 1994 and the Steele's begin a new Christmas tradition, inspired by the story of a sled.**_

 _ **For the most effective reading, my work should be read in chronological order as many of my one off's are spun into the history of the characters later on down the line. The chronological order of what I've written to date are as follows:**_

 _ **Steele Torn & Trying to Holt On**_  
 _ **Cannes Steele be Trusted (co-written with the super-talented SuzySteele)**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Steele Forsaken**_  
 _ **Steele Mending**_  
 _ **Steele Working out the Details**_  
 _ **Steele Settling In**_  
 _ **Steele Finding Comfort**_  
 _ **Steele Holting on To Christmas**_  
 _ **Steele Holting on To The Holidays**_  
 _ **Holting on to the Moments**_  
 _ **Steele Cold Relief**_  
 _ **Steele Cloned**_  
 _ **Steele Hurdling Obstacles**_  
 _ **Steeling the Big Apple**_  
 _ **Steele Dying to Get it Right**_  
 _ **Holting Steele - Part 1 of the Be Steele My Heart series**_  
 _ **Be Steele My Heart – Part 2 of the Be Steele My Heart series**_  
 _ **Steele Pursued – Part 1 of the Steele Tested series**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Steele Tested – Part 2 of the Steele Tested series**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Steele Thankful**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Down the Rabbit Holt**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Steele in Wonderland**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Expanding Steele – Part 1 of the His Holt World Series**_ _ **  
**_ _ **His Holt World – Part 2 of the His Holt World Series**_ _ **  
**_ _ **Holting Back  
Steele the Story of A Sled**_

 _ **Standard Disclaimers apply: I hold no ownership or rights to the series or characters. I simply choose to borrow the characters I love to write.**_

* * *

Chapter 1

"I simply can't get over all the changes you've made to the house, Laura," Frances remarked, clearly in awe. "It was beautiful before, but now? It's just so…"

"Over-the-top? Ostentatious? Pretentious? Utterly ridiculous?" Laura offered, drily.

The two women were sitting on opposite ends of a sofa located in the newly expanded family room of the Steele's house in Vail. With the expansions Remington had suggested – a good deal of which had been paid for by the sale of Daniel's villa in Theoule Sur Mer – their once four-bedroom, four-bath vacation home had now expanded to thirteen bedrooms and thirteen baths… not counting, of course, the additional twelve bedrooms and eight baths in the two townhouses they'd built on the property which would serve, in part, as investment units.

"I was going to say amazing," Frances corrected. "I mean, did you ever imagine you'd one day have a house like this? And that's not even considering your house at home and then those in Greece and England… and, oh, we can't forget that beautiful castle in Ireland."

"I can honestly say I never imagined anything quite like it," Laura admitted. "Keep in mind, a good deal of those properties are because of inheritance and entitlements."

"It can be a bit overwhelming," Catherine commiserated. "Why when Thomas and I first became engaged, I'd no idea the extent of his holdings and obligations." She shared a smile with the other women. "I must confess, when Thomas finally let the cat out of the bag about Remington, I was relieved some of those holdings would naturally transfer."

"Wishing away my fortunes, were you, my darling?" Thomas called from the kitchen, having overheard the conversation as he and Remington prepared lunch, which was quite the undertaking given the guest list of thirteen adults and fourteen children that would be sitting down to dine shortly.

"Not wishing away, darling, simply being thankful for less," she answered with a sedate smile.

"Unlike Laura," Remington chimed in, "Who on more than one occasion I've suspected would gladly wish it all away, and would have the five of us crammed in to that little loft of hers if she'd her way about it."

"That's not true!" she immediately denied. "There's not a single part of our life that I'd wish away. There are just times when I feel more than a little guilty that we have so much when there are those who have so little."

"Remington, whatever you and Thomas are cooking smells heavenly," Frances announced. "Would you mind if I asked what we're having?"

"Of course not," he grinned at her. "Father and I thought lunch should be in keeping with the weather." He nodded towards the wall of windows where a rather substantial snowfall was coming down. "Cauliflower soup and salad greens accompanied by gruyere and fresh baked French bread, for the adults, and chicken noodle soup, grilled cheese and fresh fruit for the children."

"Gruyere?" Frances questioned.

"A cheese primarily made in France and Switzerland," Thomas chimed in, "Very rich, with a tangy undertone. You should be certain to try a slice on the bread while it's still warm."

Before Frances could answer, the front door of the house swung open and a gaggle of voices could be heard.

"It would seem our guests have arrived," Remington announced, wiping his hands on his apron, then untying it and tossing it on the island on the way out of the kitchen to go greet their guests. A pair of little girls – one tall and blonde haired, the other petite and dark haired – raced down the stairs, hurdling themselves past him.

"Pappouli!" Olivia shrieked, throwing herself at the short, stout Marcos Androkus. He bellowed a laugh as he snatched her up in his arms, leaving her feet dangling in the air.

"Oh, my little Olivia, you must have grown half a centimeter since last I saw you!" He dropped her down on her feet, his gold tooth twinkling as he smiled wide. "Before we know it, you'll no longer be a little girl, eh?"

"I'm in second grade!" she announced, proudly.

"Yaya!" Sophie fairly danced in place at seeing her small, rotund and beloved honorary grandmother, Elena Androkus, step inside the house behind her husband. "I have a loose tooth! See?!" She wiggled the tooth with her tongue.

"Oh," Elena crooned, taking her granddaughter's cheeks in hand, "You will be tossing that tooth on the roof soon! Very soon!" She leaned down and bussed Sophie on each cheek as the little girl giggled.

"No, I have to put it under my pillow or the Tooth Fairy won't come!" she corrected. Elena tilted her head to the side.

"You will have to tell me about this Tooth Fairy of yours," she insisted, gathering the little girl to her ample bosom and hugging her tight.

"Daphne! Eirene!" Livvie squealed excitedly, drawing Sophie's attention. In an instant, she left Elena's arms to run with her sister over to greet two of their favorite cousins.

"And who is it I see hiding behind his father's legs?" Elena asked aloud, bending over to peer at Holt who was peeking his head out from behind said legs. "Come, my engonós, give your Yaya a hug." At her open armed invitation, Holt ran to her and flung himself at her. While Elena loved all three of her 'grandchildren', there would always be a special place in her heart for Holt, who in resembling his father so in appearance and mannerisms, offered her the chance to watch the beloved child she'd found, then had lost, grow up before her very eyes.

"Thomas," Marcos greeted, with a handshake, "I see you take good care of our boy, eh?" He thumped Remington a pair of times on his stomach. Laura snickered at the affronted look on her husband's face.

"What do you think, Papa? Five," Christos eyes Remington's midsection as he stepped into the fray, "Maybe ten pounds?" Remington drew himself up to his full height, and glared at his brother.

"I'll have you know I haven't gained so much as a pound in the last decade," he rebutted, while his traitorous guffawed beside him.

"Ha! You've gained at least ten pounds," she contradicted, then eased her criticism with a warm, appreciative smile, "But it's only made you all the more attractive." A wide smile lit his face, and he lifted her hand to buss the back of it. She turned her attention to Christos, her eyes glimmering with unconcealed humor, "And you," she poked him in his chest with her index finger, "It's not fat, it's muscle mass. He's been running with me for nearly three years now, on top of his workouts in the ring, fencing and playing polo."

"Ahhh, my favorite sister-in-law," Christos greeted, gathering her in a hug. "What it is you see in my brother I'll never know."

"Believe me, there are days I still wonder myself," she replied, drolly, returning his hug, then turning to Helena to greet her as well, as she waved Frances over. "Frances, I'm sure you remember Christos, Helena and Marcos from Remington's fortieth birthday party."

"Danny!" Holt shouted. Abandoning Elena, he flung himself at his oldest cousin.

"Hey, there little man!" Danny greeted, swinging Holt up into his arms and scruffing his hair. "Long time no see. Are you keeping up with your pitchin' like you promised?" It was Danny who'd first dubbed Holt with the nickname 'little man', but Laura had taken a liking to it. She often teasingly referred to Remington as 'big guy,' so she held a certain fondness for the parallel it drew between father and son.

"Da and I have been playing football!" Holt extolled

"So I have competition, do I? Well, I'll have you back in form before you know it." He leaned in and bussed Frances on the cheek. "Hey, Mom." The gesture brought moisture to her eyes. "Aw, Mom," he shifted uncomfortably, "Don't cry. Please?"

"Hi, Danny." Laura gave the young man a quick hug.

"I can't help it," Frances replied, looking upwards towards the ceiling and fanning her face with a hand. "I'm just so happy you'll be with us for more than a couple days." Swiping at her eyes with her fingertips, she looked beyond Danny. "Where's Mindy?"

"Grandma wanted to 'freshen up,'" he informed his mother with 'what can you do' shrug, "So Dad and Min took her to the guest house. Where's the squirt?"

" _Laurie Beth_ ," Frances enunciated the name, to show her displeasure with the nickname that drove her daughter mad, "Is upstairs with Esme and Alex." Danny grinned at his mother, unperturbed by the rebuke.

"Girls," Laura addressed Livvie and Sophie, "Why don't you take Danny upstairs and show him where his room is. You do remember, don't you?" Livvie and Sophie both nodded eagerly.

"Danny and Alex share their room, just like Laurie Beth, Mindy and Esme! Can Daphne and Eirene come, too?" Sophie inquired. Laura unconsciously stroked the head of her eldest daughter.

"I don't see why not," she smiled. "They'll be staying in your room, after all." With a whoop of joy, Livvie skipped over to her two cousins – Daphne, 9 and Eirene, 8.

"C'mon," she instructed, grabbing their hands. "Sophie and me got _bunk beds,_ " she announced as though the stacked beds were the best invention since sliced bread, "And you get to stay with us! You can even choose!" Five pairs of feet were soon thundering up the wood staircase.

"We'll be eating as soon as your grandmother arrives," Remington called after the girls.

"Okay, Da!" Livvie called back, before disappearing down a hallway with the rest of the children.

Laura addressed the group of adults still gathered in the entryway, as Lena came through the front door with a pair of suitcases and an overnight bag slung over each arm.

"Why don't I show you to your rooms?" she offered. Remington rubbed his hands together, then gave them a quick clap.

"A splendid idea, Laura. Father and I will just get back to preparing—" Her head snapped in his direction and she gave him a pointed look.

"I'm sure Thomas will be fine while you help with the luggage… Xenos." He did some quick calculations in his head: Five adults, two teens, six children equaled… well, a considerable amount of manual labor, while he was on holiday no less. His eyes slid to the stairway. Not to mention umpteen trips up and down those dreaded things. He pasted a wide smile on his face, and slapped Christos on the back of the shoulder.

"It seems to me Lena has the situation well in hand, don't you think?" Christos returned the slap with a little more gusto, sending Remington stumbling forward a step before he caught his balance.

"Greek women are built for work," Christos concurred.

"And Greek men are raised with manners," Marcos reminded, "For certain Androkus men. Christos, take the bags from your sister. Xenos, more awaits outside."

"Yes, sir," the two younger men answered in unison, and immediately moved into action. Laura stood, brows raised, shaking her head.

"Marcos, you're going to have to tell me your secret one day," she commented, as she held out an arm towards the staircase. "Xenos would subject me to at least another five minutes of complaints and excuses." Marcos's boisterous laugh filled the room.

"The credit for this I cannot take," he shared, "Much as it was when he was only a boy, it is the fear of seeing Elena's disappointment directed toward him that serves to inspire! Now, let us see more of this remarkable home!"

At his insistence, Laura led the group up the stairs to where the bedroom suites were located.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After lunch, the occupants of the Vail house scattered to the four winds. Elena, determined to make gingerbread houses with the children that evening the bake Christmas cookies with them the following afternoon, placed a grocery list into Remington's hand before joining Marcos in their room for a midday nap. It was just after nine in the evening by Oia time when the Androkus family had arrived, and a few hours of sleep were much needed by the older couple if they were to fully enjoy the evening's festivities. Christos and Helena, on the other hand, had chosen to renew their energy in an entirely different manner: Hitting the slopes with Thomas, Catherine, Addy, Bronte, Colleen, Mindy, Danny and Laurie Beth. Donald had volunteered up his services to watch over Alex and Holt while the boys enjoyed their first skiing lesson, but he couldn't get Frances to budge when he pointed out if Holt was old enough to take skiing lessons, then so was Esme. Frances was having none of it.

"She's far too young, Donald," she'd argued, "Esme and I will just stay behind. Don't worry about us, we'll find something to do."

With a sigh of surrender, he'd left her to her own devices, but it was Sophie and Livvie – along with their partners in crime, Daphne and Eirene – who'd managed to lure Frances from the security of the four walls of the house. Livvie, although the youngest of the group she might have been, was nominated to be the spokesperson for the little group as she, much like her father, wasn't beyond using charm to sway matters her way. Thus, she marched into the kitchen where Laura, Lena and Frances were finishing the dishes, widening her eyes and displaying her dimples when Laura looked down at her.

"Mommy?" Livvie might know how to charm, but she wasn't quite old enough to know Laura had her number when it came to pouring on the charm.

"Yes, Livvie?" Laura answered.

"Me, Eirene, Daphne and Sophie really, really, _really_ , wanna go ice skating."

Eirene, Daphne, Sophie and _I,_ " Laura corrected, automatically. The request was not an extraordinary one, so she'd already decided she'd 'give in,' but not before using that charm to her advantage – much like she often did to her daughter's father.

"Eileen, Daphne, Sophie and I," Livvie repeated, dutifully, then laid it on a little thicker. Knitting her fingers together, she held her joined hands beneath her chin in a plea. "Can we go? Pretty, pretty, _pretty_ please?"

"Well, I don't know," Laura feigned uncertainty.

"Please, please, please, please, please," Livvie cajoled, dancing on her tiptoes.

"Well, if you prom—"

"Since you asked so nicely, of course you can," Abigail promised, bending down and brushing an air kiss towards the general vicinity of Livvie's cheek. Rather than chortling with glee and racing off to report back to sister and cousins as expected, Olivia's eyes darted back and forth between mother and grandmother, while Laura's jaw fell open and she blinked. "Isn't that right, Laura dear?" Frances and Lena both regarded Laura, gauging her reaction to her mother's interference, then turned as one back to the sink, Frances washing and Lena drying a little more vigorously than necessary.

"You heard Grandma," Laura answered, tightly, after a couple heartbeats. This time Livvie did yip her happiness, and after giving Laura a hug around her waist, ran from the room.

"Olivia Elena Steele," Abigail called after the child, "We do _not_ run in the house." Unseen, Livvie stumbled to a stop then after a second's hesitation began walking.

"Yes, Grandma," she yelled back.

Back in the kitchen, Abigail was oblivious to the tension in the room, although the two onlookers were patently aware and retained their silence until Laura spoke.

"Lena, Frances, I'm sure Farris and Esme would enjoy skating as well," she suggested. "What do you say?"

"Will there be room for us?" Frances wondered, then verbally did the math, "Six children, four adults – five if Mother wishes to join us. That's eleven people and the car only fits seven."

"Twelve, actually," Laura said pensively, then shook off her black mood and forced a smile on her face. "Donald and Thomas took our 4-Runner and one of the Suburbans, which leaves us with the other two Suburbans. Remington has a substantial grocery order to pick up in town and Elena has given him a list as long as his arm, in addition to that order. I imagine it will take him a couple of hours to take care of what he needs, so he can drop everyone off and by the time he's done…"

"Now why are my earns burning?" Remington joked, as he strolled into the kitchen, donned in jeans, sweater and ski jacket. He brushed a quick kiss against Laura's lips. They'd had little time alone together since their arrival the morning prior and he was beginning to feel the loss of it.

"I'll be back shortly, in that case," Abigail announced. "I just need to run back to my… guest house… to change. I shouldn't be more than twenty-minutes." Laura lifted her hand and a pair of fingers kneaded her brow. It was the fourth comment Abigail had made that seemed to denote her dissatisfaction with her accommodations.

"We'll see you shortly, then, Mother," Laura replied, forcing a pleasant tone into her voice.

"Change?" Remington queried.

"It goes back to those ears," she sighed. "We're going to take the six girls into town to go skating. We'll need both vehicles."

"Ah, I see. You want me to play chauffeur for your little outing then," he teased, linking his arms around her waist.

"Lena and I will just go make sure the children are dressed and ready to go. We'll be downstairs in fifteen minutes or so," Frances announced, then discretely left the room, Lena following in her wake.

Once they were alone, Laura dropped her hand, huffed a sigh and rested her forehead against Remington's chest. He gave her arms a swift rub with his hands, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

"It's only five days, Laura," he reminded her. He chuckled when she sighed again. "If I can put up with Michael's for eight full days, certainly you tolerate your mother for a mere five."

"Five days!" she groaned. "It's one thing when she's staying with Frances for the holiday, but this—" She raised and dropped a hand. She slowly shook her head, then lifted it to look at him, wearily. "And you like Murphy, so there's no comparison."

"Need I remind you I endured a full year of his insults, suspicions, innuendos and outright accusations?" He frowned. "Not to mention having to tolerate his ongoing attempts to win your affections."

"He's a happily married man, now," she pointed out, "And he likes you, too. It's hardly the same as my mother."

"Unless you consider the sidelong glances he gives me even now," he countered, "Wondering how much longer it will be until I decide this is the day I've tired of this life." His grouse earned a roll of her eyes and a palm lain against his chest.

"He does no such thing. He hasn't questioned your longevity since you… Since I was pregnant with Olivia, and you know it." If Murphy'd had any doubts about Remington's commitment to Laura after he'd seen what her husband had endured when she'd been kidnapped by Roselli, those lingering had been put permanently to bed when Remington had been shot by Anna when he'd wagered his life for Laura's and his unborn child's.

"Four and a half days, love," he reminded her while gathering her closer. "We'll just need to find inventive ways to relieve your tension," he wagged his brows, "Or to create a tension of an entirely different type." He discovered the idea intrigued him, as it could be the answer to his own grievance.

"Mr. Steele, I'm afraid even you aren't _that_ creative," she denounced.

"A challenge?" he asked, his lips lifting in a cheeky smile. "You seem to forget, Mrs. Steele, I'm a man who enjoys an impossible challenge." For the first time since he entered the room, a real smile lit her face and made her eyes sparkle with warmth as she linked her arm around his neck and fingered the ends of his hair.

"What exactly do you have in mind?" she questioned, unable to quash her curiosity.

"I dunno," he admitted. "But we can begin with this…"

He lowered his head and covered her lips with his…


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As skilled as Remington liked to believe he was at reading Laura's body language, even a novice would have had no difficulty in ascertaining her mood when he'd joined her at the ice skating rink, given her crossed arms, tight lips and stiff shoulders. It was a state that persisted on the drive back to the house, in spite of Abigail playing the role of co-pilot to Remington.

"Livvie, Sophie, a hand with the groceries, please," he directed as they piled out of the truck Laura was driving.

"Daphne, Eirene, yourselves as well," Lina instructed as the girls followed Livvie and Sophie from the Suburban. Reaching into the Suburban Remington had been driving, she lifted out Farris and sat her on the ground, then offered her a hand. "Come, Farris, we will find you something small to carry as well."

"Can I help, too?" Esme questioned, looking up at Frances.

"I'm sure Aunt Laura and Uncle Remington would appreciate that," Frances agreed.

"Let's see what we have," Remington said, rubbing his hands together after opening the back of the Suburban he'd been driving. The boxes of goods prepared by the store would have to be carried inside by he and Laura, but he'd made it a point to bag his direct purchases so the children could help bring them inside the house, as was customary in the Steele household. "Here you go, Sophie Bird. To the kitchen, please. Your mother and I will see to putting it away, much as we do at home." Sophie relieved him of the bag.

"I can carry two, Da," she volunteered.

"Me, too," Livvie piped up. He fished another bag from the back and handed it to Sophie, then a removed a pair for Livvie.

"Here you are, Livvie Bee. Straight to the kitchen," he reminded, with a lift of his brows. With a household of people milling about, the chances were even Livvie might find herself distracted and drawn off course.

"Μπορώ να φέρω και δύο, Theo Xenos," Daphne offered.

"Και εγώ!" Eirene seconded.

"Βρίσκω τον εαυτό μου περιτριγυρισμένο από ισχυρές, αποφασιστικές νεαρές κυρίες," Remington complimented, then leaning over, wiggled his brows comically, earning a pair of delighted laughs. "Είμαι ένας πραγματικά τυχερός πατέρας και θείος." He handed Eirene her pair of bags.

"Είστε," Daphne retorted, with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. She and Eirene ran towards the house giggling.

"Well, I know which side of the tree the pair of you fell from," he called in English after them, chuckling.

"What was that about?" Laura wondered, stepping around Remington to hand Esme a small bag.

"I'll take one of the boxes in," Frances offered.

"Alright," Laura confirmed she'd heard, her eyes remaining on Remington in question as she moved a pair of bags out of the way of the nearest box.

"Nothing more than Daphne and Eirene showing they've the confidence of their father," he replied, still amused.

"Thanks, Frances," Laura addressed her sister, as she handed her the box.

"Farris and I as well," Lina announced as she stepped forward with Christos's youngest, then smirked at her older brother. "Arrogance, would be more accurate, I believe," she corrected her brother, having overheard the exchange. "I shall have to have a discussion on manners with them." He flashed his pearly whites at her.

"All for enjoyment, Lina," he dismissed. "Dare I ask what has you so cross this trip?" She straightened slightly where she stood as Laura handed Farris a small bag to carry.

"I have no idea what you mean," she sniffed, rejecting the notion.

"Mm-hm," he hummed, disbelievingly. "I could have warned you this little ruse of yours, this…" he gesticulated with his hand "…mysterious suitor... wouldn't bring Jacoby to heel." Lina's spine stiffened in outrage at what he was suggesting.

"I only said I was—"

"If anyone would know it's, Xenos," Laura commented, drily, capturing Lina's full attention before she could work herself up into a fine dressing down of her big brother. "After all, he tried a variation of it with me… more than once." He openly grimaced when Laura slanted her eyes towards him, her lips pursed with amusement. He hurriedly grabbed a box, shoved it into her arms, then wrapping an arm around her waist turned her in the direction of the front door. The last thing he needed were those particular tales told, as Melina would hold them over his head for the rest of his days.

"No time to dawdle, Laura. Should have been in the refrigerator nearly an hour ago." She neatly stepped out of his arm then turned and took a pair of steps back towards Lina.

"I'm sure the groceries will be fine," she chided, knowing what he was up to. "It's cooler out here than it is in the refrigerator." Undeterred, he caught her around the waist then spun her towards the house again.

"Too cold, actually. Can't have the cheese freezing. It will separate." She escaped his arm again, marching back in Lina's direction as Farris watched with wide-eyed fascination.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing the food has been in a heated vehicle for the drive."

"Laura—"

"Mr. Steele." She drew out his name in warning.

"Mommy?" Sophie voice drew both of their gazes towards the front of the house. "Livvie says her tummy hurts."

"Of course it does!" Laura groused in an undertone that wouldn't carry to Sophie's ears. She shoved the box she'd been holding at Remington, while he looked at her in surprise. It was certainly not her typical reaction to news one of their children was a bit under the weather. "I tried to tell her, but would she listen? Of course not!" she muttered, before walking with purpose towards her oldest daughter. "C'mon, Soph, let's go see Livvie," she said, forcing a pleasant look upon her face, and holding her hand out to her daughter. Remington slanted a questioning looking at Lina as the pair went inside.

"The children's penchant for treats was…" She tiptoed around an accusation "…perhaps… a bit overindulged this afternoon." He didn't couch his surprise.

"That doesn't sound like Laura, holiday or not," he assessed, looking for Lina to elaborate, but she diplomatically held her tongue. "Well, I suppose I'd better get the groceries in so I can check on Livvie, then," he concluded, a bit tweaked with his taciturn sister.

As it happened, he hadn't to do so, Marcos and Donald stepping out the front door as he approached it.

"Go, see to our Olivia. Elena already prepares her ginger tea, but she will feel all the better for her Papa at her side," Marcos insisted, relieving Remington of the burden he carried.

"'Preciate it." He slapped Donald on the shoulder in thanks as he passed his-brother-in-law. He hadn't bothered correcting Marcos, but the truth of the matter was that Livvie far preferred her mother over him when she was feeling unwell. Still, it would set his own mind at ease to see for himself it was no more than stomach ache.

"Laura took her to your room, Remington," Frances supplied. "I sent Sophie upstairs to play."

"'Preciate it," he repeated his earlier gratitude, changing course to the back of the house, through the library and into the master. There he found Laura sitting on the overstuffed couch in the sitting area, Livvie curled up next to her, with her head on her mother's lap and a trio of fingers in her mouth. Lifting her feet, he said down and laid them on his lap.

"I hear tell a certain Little Lady may have enjoyed too many goodies this afternoon," he commented, leaning over to brush the back of his fingers over Livvie's, thankfully, cool cheek. Large, sorrowful eyes considered him.

"My tummy hurts," she told him, pitifully.

"Then I suppose it's a good thing Yaya is making you a spot of tea, hmmm? You'll feel better in no time at all," he assured, while lifting his eyes to Laura. She held up a hand indicating that although she'd fill him in later, now was not the time.

"Once her stomach settles, she'll be fine." She stroked a hand over Olivia's braided hair. "Isn't that right?" she asked, in a soothing, confident tone. Nuzzling closer to Laura, Livvie nodded her head and closed her eyes. "Why don't you see to our guests? I imagine everyone will be back shortly. You'll want all those groceries put away so you and Thomas can start dinner." Pursing his lips, he considered suggestion, then slowly shook his head.

"In a few minutes, perhaps, but first-things-first."

Carefully sliding out from under Livvie's legs, he disappeared, then returned with a soft blanket he retrieved from the linen closet in their bathroom. A low-burning fire followed, along with a basin, just in case. Last, but not least, he collected the ginger tea from Elena and delivered it himself. He left with Livvie sitting up, snuggled into Laura's side, and sipping the tepid tea.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Elena," he spoke as he returned to the kitchen, "But weren't you and Marcos to be taking a nap while we were gone?" He investigated the four baking racks positioned along the back wall of the kitchen which were laden cookies. "Kourampiedes?" The powder-sugar covered butter cookies were a Androkus Christmas tradition, and in years past, Elena had seen to sending a batch along with presents to the children. Unable to resist, he snatched one from the rack, and was rewarded with the thwack of a wooden spoon against the back of his hand. Standing to his full height, shaking his stinging hand, he grinned unapologetically at the older woman as he took a bite of the cookie.

"As ill-mannered as you were as a child," she scolded, fondly, while stepping to him and pinching a cheek then patting it.

"Since I am disciplined as I was when a child," he shook his hand for emphasis, "Then I suppose I should take…" he grabbed another cookie from the rack "…Two, as I would have then." She feigned disapproval but her rotund stomach jiggled with her silent laughter.

"Marcos and I had our sleep," she answered his prior query. "With a kitchen so grand as this, much can be accomplished in little time."

Elena was referring to the relocated and expanded kitchen which now featured a six-burner gas range, plus four ovens stacked one-over-one on catty-corner walls. The buzzer on one of those ovens sounded and she turned her attention to removing another sheet of Kourampiedes from it while Remington finished his stolen cookies.

"I suspect it will be put to good use in upcoming days," he mused, as he chewed. Given the number of guests they'd have at any time, the kitchen was far more practical than ostentatious.

"Tomorrow," she waggled at finger him, "You and our Lara will ski. Helena and I will prepare the noon meal." With Frances and Lina having already volunteered to prepare breakfast, visions of spending a bit of time in the morning wrapped around his wife's warm body pranced through his thoughts. It would be a splendid start to Christmas Eve, indeed…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Yaya, I need more icing," Livvie called to Elena.

The ginger tea and a short nap had restored the middle Steele child to good health, and she joyously joined siblings and cousins in making gingerbread houses at the kitchen island. Laurie Beth, Mindy, Danny, and Christos's eldest three daughters – Addy, Bronte and Colleen – had opted out of the activity choosing to disappear to the theater room for a showing of _Home Alone_ (Macaulay Culkin, Joe Pesci, Catherine O'Hara, Twentieth Century Fox, 1990). Still that left eight exuberant children standing and sitting at the island, constructing their colorful confections under the watchful eyes of Elena, Catherine and Abigail.

A fire blazed in the living room where Laura sat curled in the corner of a couch, legs tucked underneath her, with a mug of hot buttered rum in hand. At the opposite end of the couch, Lina sat positioned similarly, while Frances and Helena had opted for nearby chairs. At the end of the room, Remington, Thomas, Marcos, Christos and Donald sat around a temporary poker table, tumbler of scotch or bottle of beer near at hand, the smoke of several cigars hovering over the table like a thick fog. Christmas music, courtesy of the local radio station, played softly by way of speakers scattered discretely throughout the expansive room, drowned out often by the men as they laughed and needled one another.

"You must share the story now," Melina insisted to Laura, "Of Xenos's…" she gesticulated with a hand as she tried to recall the phrase Remington had used "…Xenos's ruses with mysterious suitors."

"Oh, I don't know…" Laura laughed.

"Mysterious suitors?" Frances asked, leaning forward, her face lit with curiosity.

"Apparently my big brother has created a fictitious suitor… _twice_ …" Lina emphasized, dramatically, "…in order to make Laura jealous." The thought tickled Helena's humor and she leaned forward as well.

"Oh, now you must tell," Helena urged. "The Xenos I once knew believed any woman whom required more than a smile and a wink was far too demanding for him to suffer. To think he resorted to cheap tricks…" She left the thought hanging in the air while looking at Laura eagerly.

"I can't believe you've never told me, Laura," Frances pouted, feeling she'd been left out of the sisterly loop.

"Frances it was _years_ ago," Laura cajoled, sitting up straighter. "We could be here for days if I were to tell you about every cheap trick Remington used to try to get me into bed or to make me jealous or, hell, every foolish thing he did because _he_ was jealous." Her lips lifted in a sudden smile when a memory flitted through her head, and she sunk back into the pillows on the couch while taking a sip of her coffee. "In fact, do you remember that dental convention Donald attended here a year or two before you moved back to LA?"

"Well, I'm hardly likely to forget with Wendall Whittaker going around killing people and wanting to hurt my Donald," Frances replied in a tone that suggested Laura had gone daft.

"Killing people?" Helena asked, clearly shocked.

"Wendall Whittaker faked his own death in order to collect the insurance money," Laura answered as though it were just another day at the office to be rubbing elbows with murderers – which of course it was. "It would have worked if not for dental impressions Donald had recently taken that would prove the body in Whittaker's home was not his own. He murdered Donald's partner and a dental hygienist before we caught him." She turned to look at Frances again. "But that's not what I was referring to. When Remington found out I was meeting someone at the hotel, he followed me then _assumed_ Donald and I were engaged in some tawdry affair." Frances pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"With _my_ Donald?" Laura flipped a dismissive hand in her sister's direction and rolled her eyes.

"His imagination was always running away with him," she explained, "And the crazier the idea the more foolish his ploy." Lina practically bounced in her seat, she was so eager to hear the tales.

"Ploy? A ploy like what?" she begged for details. Laura slanted her eyes in the direction of her husband, who was currently laughing around the cigar in his mouth while passing out cards. With a bit of the devil in her, she decided he could withstand a bit of ribbing that the stories would bring.

"Well," she drew out the word, "Remington and I had known each other for just about a year. We were…" she gesticulated with a hand as she tried to come up with the appropriate term to describe what they were in those days, then gave up, "…Casually dating, I guess you would call it." She laughed quietly and looked at Lina. "Your brother was _very_ open about the fact he wasn't prepared to make a commitment and I wasn't willing to get in too deep with a man who I couldn't count on being here in a week." Lina snorted her opinion.

"That sounds like the Xen we knew," she indicated Helena with a gesture. Laura lifted and dropped a shoulder, as she took another sip of his drink.

"He was never less than honest. I had to give him credit for that," she defended him, serenely. "Still, that…" she gesticulated with a hand again "…gap between what he could offer and what I needed made things… interesting, I guess you could say. We were both free to see other people and _neither_ of us," she cut another hand through the air in emphasis, "would give the other the upper hand by admitting we weren't, but at the same time we were both capable using flirtation – real or imagined – to make the other jealous."

The other three women erupted into laughter, drawing Remington's eye from over the cards he held in hand. He lifted a curious brow at his wife, and in return she gave him a beatific smile before returning her attention to her sister and sister-in-laws.

"Oh, Xen must have been driven mad," Helena observed, still laughing.

"We _both_ were," Laura corrected, then returned to the original story. "So, about a year after we met, I decided I wanted to explore my creative side and began taking a sculpture class being taught by a metal sculptor of some renown by the name of Giovanni. One afternoon—"

"I didn't know you sculpted," Frances interjected.

"I _don't_ ," she answered with mirth tracing through the words. "The class was enough for me to admit I don't _have_ an artistic side." Another round of laughter followed the admission. "One afternoon, I had stepped out of the office when Giovanni called to speak with me. I can only imagine the vision of the man Remington conjured up in his mind: Some tall, handsome Italian, determined to sweep me off my feet, no doubt." She gave the women a conspiratorial look. "In reality," she mused, "He was completely average and more than twice my age. Remington decided from their brief conversation that Giovanni and I were having an affair and when I finally realized what he believed, well _I…_ " she drew out the word while pressing a palm to her chest and raising her brows "…wasn't going to disabuse him of the notion. After all, he was not insulting my character by believing I could engage in a smarmy affair while… dating… him, but, frankly, this attitude of his that I should just sit at home while waiting him out was… _infuriating_ , and it served him right to believe I wasn't doing exactly that!" Lina sat up and switched positions to sit Indian style, facing Laura.

"Oh, to – using the American colloquialism – 'be a fly on the wall' when Xen answered that call!" she enthused. "So what did Xen do?"

"He decided to give me a taste of my own medicine, using another American colloquialism," Laura smiled. "We'd worked late and had gone to dinner, after. Unknown to me, Remington had recruited an unwitting Bernice into his plans, insisting that she call him in the limo at eleven-thirty, and on cue, she did. Only _he_ pretended it was another woman he planned to meet up with after dropping me off at home. A woman who not only had a key to his place, but whom he suggested should be wearing silk when he arrived!"

"Oh, my," Frances breathed, a hand fluttering up to her throat. "What did you do?"

"Babbled, mostly," Laura admitted. "I knew he'd meant for me to overhear every word, a bit of 'what's good for the goose' in his eyes: If I could sleep with other men, so could he with other women. I couldn't very well admit there was nothing going on between Giovanni and I _after that_ , could I? So I babbled, then kissed him, then got out of the car and locked myself in my house. I would have driven myself _crazy_ half the night, imaging what he and _Darlene_ were doing at that very moment, if not for our client showing up at my door, on the run, with nowhere to go. He slept on my couch that night, and the next morning when Remington arrived to pick me up, I was in the bedroom getting ready for the day and Teddy, the client, was in the shower. Seeing our client's pants he _assumed_ Teddy and I…"

"He didn't!" Lina gasped, affronted by what she saw as the maligning of her now sister-in-law's character.

"Oh, but he did," Laura chuckled. "Your brother's ego was _so_ enormous he believed I'd 'rebounded,' as he put it, into another man's arms after he made known his planned tryst with 'Darlene'," she airbracketed the name. "It was absurd, _all of it_ , and even knowing that in the back of my head at the time, I couldn't help myself." She shrugged and held up her hands then dropped them, while smiling ruefully. "I suggested that we should keep our private lives private, no questions asked about what the other was doing, no sharing of information."

"Let me be certain I understand," Helena requested. "Xen believed you'd taken this sculptor as a lover." Laura nodded. "So he let you believe _he_ he'd taken a lover in turn."

"Yes," Laura confirmed.

"Then you allowed him to believe you'd taken yet another lover?" Laughing, Laura raised and dropped her hands again.

"What can I say? It took us _years_ to realize the only true threat to our personal relationship was the trouble we caused ourselves."

"However did you manage to untangle the mess?" Lina wondered.

"Remington suggested sixty seconds of absolute honesty, before we were both driven completely mad by what we'd done."

"And it worked?" Frances asked, astounded. Laura nodded again.

"Yes, because no matter the foolish games, we'd never lie to one another, not directly, not when it came to our personal relationship." She fingered her throat, thoughtfully. "Withhold things, dance around them, allow the other to think what they wished, but never lie."

"You said twice," Lina prodded.

"Actually," Laura drawled the word then corrected, "I said 'more than once.' And believe me when I say, it was far more than twice, and that's not taking into consideration that I wasn't exactly immune to doing things to purposefully arouse his jealousy myself, even after we knew how dangerous our games could be."

"Dangerous?" Frances inquired, her brows knitting together. "What do you mean dangerous?"

"Shortly after that dental convention?" Laura referenced. "I began receiving flowers. Just a bouquet at first, then two, but by the end of the week, baskets and bushel of flowers were arriving. I was _flattered_. How couldn't I be?"

"They were from Xen?" Lina hazarded to guess. Laura made a face.

"I didn't know that at first. All the cards contained smutty little love poems and were signed 'Your Secret Admirer'." She raised her brows at the three women. "Remington was quick to dub my 'Admirer' the 'poet of the obscene.'" Another round of laughter rose from the group, drawing Remington's eye again. He frowned as Laura quickly avoided his gaze, but a trio of eyes looked upon him with mirth. The predatory glean in Lina's eyes left him muttering beneath his breath.

"Bloody hell." An oath that had the other four men at the table looking at him.

"Mind your language, Xenos," Marcos reproved.

"What is it, son?" Thomas inquired, more concerned with the why than the words.

"Unless I'm mistaken, Laura is currently sharing tales of some of my less than illustrious moments," he speculated, accurately. All four heads at the table turned as though one to regard the women, which elicited a fresh round of tittering.

"But why would Remington pretend to be your secret admirer, Laura?" Frances questioned when their laughter died down. Laura rolled her eyes and spread her arms wide.

"So he could pretend to be jealous," she answered, in a tone that suggested the answer was obvious. "So he could suddenly _realize_ just how much I meant to him and 'fight' for me," she shared, "Or so he said, but we both knew it was just another one of his attempts to get me to fall into bed with him." Helena found this outrageously funny.

"Can you imagine, Melina?" she guffawed. "Xenos resorting to trickery to get a woman? So far as I recall, he never wanted a woman for more than a night, yet he positively—" Her face fell when she realized what she was saying in front of whom. "Laura, forgive me," she apologized earnestly, "I forgot myself for a moment." Laura held up a hand palm forward.

"There's no need to apologize," she assured, then added, expanded, "I don't think he'd ever encountered a woman who, with minimal effort on his part, wouldn't fall straight into the sack with him. I was a challenge," she finished proudly.

"How did you discover he was your Secret Admirer, Laura?" Frances prodded, with a tilt of her head, reminiscent of one of Laura's affectations.

"He charged all the flowers to the Agency credit cards," she deadpanned. Frances choked on a half-laugh.

"Even I would know not to do that," she offered, the group. "Why when I thought Donald was having an affair, the first thing I did was check the credit card statement." Laura snapped her fingers and pointed at her sister.

"Exactly! But when it came to his schemes to get my attention, he was so focused on what he hoped to accomplish, that he'd miss a few pertinent details, and _that_ is what _always_ blew his plans wide apart."

"I don't see how Xen pretending to be your Secret Admirer was dangerous," Lina observed, then grinned in her brother's direction, "Other than to his ego, that is." Laura settled back in her seat, growing more somber as she took a long drink.

"Almost exactly two years later, it started again. At first it was flowers, a tasteful bouquet. Next, it was boxes of expensive chocolates, which Remington knows are my weakness." Frances nodded her head in adamant agreement.

"The Holt curse," she noted, with a smile meant only for one's sister.

"The Holt curse," Laura concurred. "Then it was a watch. Gold, with little diamonds on its face – just like the one Remington had planned to get me for Christmas. And on the back of that watch? An inscription rather like those notes that had come with the flowers two years before, although not as blatant: 'May the hands of time not dim your loveliness,'" she quoted from memory. "What else was I to think, but that it was Remington? The question was why. Why resort to ridiculous ploys when we were committed to not only one another, but to moving forward? Of course I believed my secret admirer was him! What I didn't know is he thought it was _me._ " Lina snorted in disdain, and flicked a hand.

"Why ever would you pretend to be your own secret admirer?" she scoffed.

"In his eyes it made perfect sense," Laura replied in a tone that suggested his assumption was reasonable. "I'd stolen a page from his playbook to make _him_ jealous in an attempt to get him to pledge his undying devotion to me. His little ploy from two years before had made us both dismiss the thought of any actual Secret Admirer at all. But there was one," she frowned, "A deranged one, at that. Had we not been so determined to prove each other the Secret Admirer, I may not have found myself on the wrong end of a gun." Helena gasped.

"How awful for you!"

"Certainly an experience I'd prefer not to repeat," Laura agreed, then turned her attention to Melina. "That's what Xenos was trying to say this afternoon: The gambits, the ruses, they only make everything all the more complicated." Instinctively, she reached out an arm at the sound of footfalls behind her, then assisted Holt as he climbed up on the couch and into her lap, lying his head on her chest. "Did you have fun?" she asked, stroking a hand over his silky hair.

"Uh-huh," he yawned, while nodding his head, snuggling closer at her touch. Another huge yawn was followed by, "We maked houses with can-ny and icing. Gramma helped me and Esme."

"That was very nice of Grandma," she noted, to which she only received a half-hearted nod. With a soft smile, she rocked him gently while stroking his hair. Moments like these reminded her how very much Holt was like his father, for he responded to touch much as Remington did, and was a boy who enjoyed his sleep as much as his father.

Remington had seen his son's entrance from where he sat across the room, then had watched as the scene played out. Tossing his latest hand face down on the table he stood.

"Deal me out the next few hands, if you don't mind," he announced, "It would appear the children are about ready for bed." Donald similarly lay down his cards and stood.

"I'm sure Frances would welcome an extra pair of hands as well," he commented.

"Might I suggest we suspend play for a half hour or so?" Thomas suggested, as the brood of younger children began trickling out of the kitchen. It had become custom for he and Catherine to bid their goodnights to the children once they were soundly tucked in, and he was loathe to miss out this evening, despite the festivities.

"Christos," Helena called, on cue, "A hand with the children if you don't mind."

"A pause it will be, it seems," Marcos noted, jovially. "Go, see to the children. Elena and I will restore the kitchen to order as I imagine a fine mess has been made."

"I'll prepare Holt for bed," Remington to Laura as he leaned down to heft his already sleeping son out of her lap, securing the precious cargo against him, "If you wouldn't mind seeing to the girls." Holding out a hand, he helped her to her feet. She reached out and caressed the back of her sleeping son's head.

"Something tells me Holt won't be joining us for story time tonight," she smiled up at Remington.

"Doesn't appear so, hmmm?" Leaning down, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips. "I'll see you—" He abruptly stopped speaking when the doorbell sounded. Automatically, he glanced at watch. She eyed him suspiciously when he appeared unperturbed by the surprise, late night visitor. "I'll just get the—"

"Do you know who's here?" she questioned as she walked towards the entryway and front door, with him close on her heels. He grinned in that annoying, I-know-something-you-don't-know way of his.

"I might…" She looked over her shoulder with narrowed eyes as she reached for the doorknob and swung the door open.

"Ah, Jacoby," Remington greeted, stepping around Laura to offer the man his hand, "Right on time…"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Right on time?" Laura questioned, looking from one man to the other. "Right on time for _what_ exactly?"

"Yes, right on time for what?" Lina asked as she approached the door, a coy smile on her face. A surge of joy had jolted through her when she'd heard Xenos call Jacoby by name. Her little ploy had worked, and he'd come to take measure of the old suitor who'd be visiting her in Vail – or so he believed.

"Ah," Remington hedged and tugged at his ear when Laura's eyes narrowed upon him, "Given Jacoby wasn't returning East for the holidays, I asked if he wouldn't mind coming up for a couple of days so that we might review the offer Mrs. Dandrich asked us to prepare on the house purchase and discuss the upgrades on a couple of the foundation's properties while we put our heads together on acquiring two or three more."

" _You're_ …" Laura paused for a pair of beats for effect "…going to work during the _holidays_?" She didn't buy it for a second and another tug at his ear spoke of his nervousness.

"Well, yes." He defended. "If we'd like a few more write offs before the end of year, we only have eight days to accomplish the feat." She nodded her head slowly.

"We'll talk about this later," she warned.

"Mmm," he hummed, regretfully, while grimacing. He had not a doubt they'd do exactly that.

"Well, come on in," Laura invited, extending an arm towards the living room. "We don't expect Monroe and Jocelyn until New Year's, so you're welcome to use the guest house," she offered.

"I don't want to put you out," Jacoby worried, as he slipped out of his coat.

"It's no trouble at all," she assured. "If we have anything around here, it is more than enough space. Make yourself comfortable," she encouraged. "Remington and I are going to put the children to bed, and then he can show you to the guest house." She slanted her eyes in Melina's direction, "I suspect you'll be able to keep yourself occupied until we return." She turned her eyes to Remington. "Ready… _dear_?" A sure sign he was in hot water, that nickname was, and a double take at the smirk on his sister's face said she knew it as well.

"Of course. You know wherever you lead, I'll follow," he schmoozed, as he followed her to the stairs.

"Until you get distracted or take a detour don't you mean?"

"Lau-ra…" He decided to change course with a bit of cajoling.

"I said we'll talk about it later," she reminded him, lightly. "I'm going to get the girls. We'll see you upstairs."

With those words, they parted company, Remington going up the stairs, while Laura went to the kitchen to usher the girls off to bed. Across the room, just inside the entry, Lina eyed Jacoby with suspicion.

"I do not recall plans to work over the holidays," she accused. He smiled placidly at her in return, as the pair stood eye-to-eye assessing one another.

"Lina, as invaluable as you are to the Foundation, you are not involved in the contractual side of the properties we purchase," he pointed out. "As Mr. Steele said, with Dana Dandrich purchasing one of the homes, as we allow, we'll need to replace it. And, might I add, it was you who pointed out we could use a couple more residences in which to house families in crisis. Now is the opportune time to create a few more deductibles." He pulled off his gloves and patted the attaché slung over his shoulders. "I've brought Mr. Steele an array of listings for single family homes in areas outlying Los Angeles between thirty and a hundred miles."

"And when were Jocelyn and I to have been informed?" she asked, a snippy quality to her tone that suggested she felt the two people actually running the Foundation had been left out in the cold.

"I'm sure your brother will review his selections with you once he makes them and Jocelyn will have more than enough time to plan any renovations and outfit them," he assured, an amused smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. "Tell me, Lina, what aggravates you more: That I didn't fall for that little stunt of you implying an old suitor waiting here to sweep you off your feet or that you feel excluded on the home purchases?" Her narrowed eyes glinted with irritation.

"I _never_ inferred any such thing," she sniffed with disdain. "Why would I? I've no more hold on you than you do on me. After all, we _merely_ work with one another." A predatory glean lit his eyes, and he sidled closer until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

" _Merely_ work together?" he challenged. "Is that what you call…" He tilted his head slightly and leaned in. Lina jumped backward a foot, and, blushing profusely, peered around the room to make sure no one had been watching.

"Must I remind you Mama and Papa are here, not to mention a whole host of other family who'd not approve of seeing us conducting ourselves in such a manner?!" she reprimanded.

"We 'conduct ourselves in such a manner' at your brother's house," he pointed out with a smug smile, closing in on her again.

"Only when you catch me by surprise," she refuted, then plunked her fists on her hips. "I believed I had been clear, yet you seem to have forgotten. You and I? We are too different," she waved a hand in front of herself as she shook her head. "Our _priorities_ do not align. Ours is now and always should have been a purely professional relationship. No more of this nonsense." With those words, she flounced away towards the kitchen, leaving him standing there alone left with nothing to do but admire the sway of her slim hips until she disappeared from view.

* * *

"Is Jacoby all settled in?" Laura asked, leaning against the door jamb of Remington's walk-in closet in the master bedroom. She openly admired his still damp, nude frame as he slid open a drawer in the custom organizer he'd had built in each of their closets when the house was being renovated

"Mmm. He's agreed to escort your mother to breakfast," he replied, taking a peek at what she was wearing then pulled out the matching black silk bottoms to his pajama top. He did a double take, then stood up straight and fully faced her, a grin on his face.

"See something you like?" She glided towards him, then feathered her hands up his arms, over his shoulders and then down his torso.

"You know I do," she replied. She gave him a lascivious look, as her hand went further south to caress his sac. Forty-two-years-old or not, his body had yet to hiccup in response to her touch, and she felt his shaft growing harder against her palm. She drifted away when he would have encircled her in his arms and pulled her near. "Might I suggest a heavy robe? It's a bit nippy outside…"

* * *

Drawing her fingers through Remington's thick hair and her open eyes holding his, Laura leaned in to brush her lips over his a final time, before twitching her hips and unmerging their bodies. When she shifted to leave his lap, his fingers clutched her hips, stilling her. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, as she threaded a hand through his hair again.

"As much as I enjoy being in your arms," she teased, "It's a bit drafty at the moment." It took a split second for comprehension to dawn, then one side of his mouth crooked upwards. Wiggling himself slightly upwards, he released her hips, then encircled her with an arm when she reclined back against him. Like the custom closets, a new hot tub that featured both bench seating and ergonomic lounges on two ends had replaced the old, more standard hot tub. Onnce she laid back they were both effectively covered from just below the shoulder down by steamy, jetted water. "This is nice," she murmured. Resting the back of his head against the edge of the hot tub, he closed his eyes.

"Mmmm. A veritable delight," he hummed, as she linked her fingers with the hand on her waist.

"Now, would you mind telling me what in the hell is going on?" she demanded. "Even the great Remington Steele couldn't possibly close on a single house, let alone multiple, before the end of the year _during the holidays…_ Not to mention we close the books on the Foundation at the end of June."

"It's time for this dance between Jacoby and Lina to reach its inevitable conclusion, don't you think?"

"Oh, nooooooooooo," she drawled, as visions of Remington the matchmaker plodded through her head. The man's schemes, plots, ploys and gambits of a personal nature were notorious for failing. "What have you done?"

"I think I may be insulted, Mrs. Steele," he grumbled, good-naturedly. "Why must you always assume the worst?"

"What have you done, Mr. Steele?" she repeated. His hands found their way to her shoulders and began seeking out the knots she tended to collect in droves.

"Merely had a brief conversation with Jacoby a couple months back, then agreed to lend a hand when he requested my assistance," he provided.

"A conversation about what, and what form of assistance?" she pressed.

"I simply advised he'd be wise to understand women such as Lina and yourself know you deserve nothing less than everything, and you'll settle for nothing short of that," he shrugged, then continued, "And advised it was high time he… What is that delightfully American phrase your mother is so fond of?" Tilting his head slightly to the side, he smiled when he found the correct phrase hiding out in the recesses of his mind. "Ah, it was high time he either fish or she'd cut the line sending him out to sea." She groaned aloud.

"The fish analogy?" she asked aghast. "You used the fish analogy?!" She sighed then added with a shake of her head, "And poorly at that. It's fish or cut bait."

"Poorly restated or not, it worked," he announced, proudly. "Three weeks later he stopped by the office while you were off to the accountants and lay a… large…" he bobbled his head, finding the description apt "...diamond ring on my desk." That caught her attention. She turned her head to look at him.

"He's going to propose?" Remington's brows rose.

"Should Marcos give his blessing tomorrow when they speak." This time Laura's brows rose.

"Is there a reason he wouldn't? Jacoby's polite, well-manner, well-educated—"

"And not Greek," Remington interjected. "I can't recall a single cousin, no matter how distant, that didn't marry a Greek."

"You married me," she pointed out. He chuckled behind her.

"A son of Marcos and Elena's heart I may be, but an Irishman I still am."

" _I think_ ," she drew out the words, "Marcos and Elena want nothing more than for their children to be happy and if Jacoby is the man who makes Lina happy, that's all the matters."

"Mmmm," Remington agreed, "But I suspect there will be a great many promises extracted from our Mr. Elliot before Marcos gives him the nod."

"Promises?"

"To raise any children in the church, to abide by certain customs and…" he tipped his head to the side to see her face and raised his brows at her, "…most importantly, a vow there will be regular trips to Oia."

"Then I guess Jacoby will need an increase in vacation time," she mused. "I take it you don't approve of the ring." His fingers paused on her shoulders as he gave the question a bit of thought.

"Contrary to what some of the fairer sex believe, size isn't everything, and—" Laura's sudden laugh, evoked one from his as well. "You, Mrs. Steele, have a dirty mind," he scolded, humorously.

"I didn't say anything," she declared, in exaggerated innocence "I was _thinking_ of your proclivity towards shiny things." Her protestations were rendered mute when she slipped a hand between them and palmed a certain portion of his anatomy, "Although I have no complaints about _any_ of the… family jewels."

"Why, Laura, I'm blushing," he teased, making her laugh again.

"The hell you are," she dismissed with vigor. "The ring, Mr. Steele," she prodded, as she slid her hand from between them to absently stroke his leg.

"A four carat marquis cut, that I'm sure set him back a fair amount as he no doubt purchased it retail," he assessed, "But even to the naked eye, the stone is not flawless and the setting could do with a touch of improvement." Unseen, she rolled her eyes.

"Poor, Jacoby," she lamented in jest, "He had no idea he was dealing with a prolific jewel thief." He frowned behind her.

"Let's try to recall I didn't run about willy-nilly nicking whatever was in sight," he sniffed with disdain, "There were a remarkably few number of jobs I felt were worth putting my neck on the line for. First and foremost, the reward had to outweigh the risk. It was to my extraordinary pleasure one of those jobs came with a most unexpected bonus." When he dropped a kiss on her shoulder, she reached back and caressed his cheek with her palm.

"For myself as well," she agreed, softly. "Will Lina like it?"

"It's… showy, so right up her alley, so to speak." Laura nodded, then extracted herself from his embrace and stepped out of the hot tub. A pair of blue eyes followed her nude form, appreciatively, as she strolled to a chaise and picked up her robe.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a hot shower, warm bed and an even warmer fire," she announced as she tugged the robe on. He stepped from the hot tub and joined her.

"Not to mention a decent kip for the first time in weeks," he added, picking up his robe and pulling it on as well, then slinging an arm around her waist as they walked towards the house.

"I wouldn't count on that, if I were you," she predicted. "It's Christmas Eve and we have a household of children that will be looking forward to Santa's arrival this evening."

"Ahhh, but we have Father and Catherine in our favor," he countered.

"We'll see," she mused, as they stepped into the bedroom. "But in the meantime might I suggest you start the fire and I'll prepare a shower… for two?"

"Mmmmm," he hummed his approval, while encircling her waist with his arms, "The second best offer I've had on the evening." He dropped a kiss on her lips then released her. "I'll be in momentarily…"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The tapping on their bedroom door began early… very early, given the hour they'd tumbled into bed. Before Remington managed to pry open his grainy eyes and peek at the clock – Six-twenty-three! – Laura had scooted out of bed and crossed the room.

 _Ah, mo mhac._ He silently thanked the stars above, for of their three children, this was the one who'd crawl up into bed, snuggle in his mother's arms, and go back to sleep… gladly.

Not a word was spoken as mother and son crossed the room. Holding sheet and comforter high for her, Remington waited until first she climbed back into bed and turned on her side, then spooned Holt when he joined her. Bedding tucked back around them, he spooned against Laura's backside, then wrapped wife and son in an arm.

He was back to sleep in less than a minute.

* * *

Laura woke to a squirming young son in her arms, tapping insistently on her arm.

"Mommy, I haf to go," he informed, on the edge of a whine. A smile tipping up the corners of her lips, she lifted the covers.

"Use our bathroom," she directed, quietly, as not to disturb the morning quiet. A glance at the clock, had her wriggling around the face the man she knew was playing possum, for his arm hadn't tightened around her as it would in his sleep – not that he'd ever give him a hint about the tell. A tap of her lips to his, had a pair of sleep blurred blue eyes popping open.

"I'd like to take a few runs down the slopes this morning," she whispered, more in a nod of respect to the peaceful morning than anything else. "It's almost nine. We could be on the powder within the hour," she tempted.

"The children?" he asked in an equally quiet voice.

"There are how many adults and responsible young adults in this house? I'm sure someone would be willing to watch over them while we steal a little time for ourselves."

"Mmmm," he hummed. Hadn't it been exactly what he'd been lamenting only yesterday, the loss of their alone time? "I can be ready in ten."

"I'll be ready in five," she replied, stealing another quick kiss then rolling out of bed.

* * *

Remington parked the Suburban on the drive and cut off the engine, then turned towards Laura, taking her hand in his. Lifting her hand, he placed it against his cheek and leaned into it.

"Thank you," he told her, sincerely.

When he'd first taken on the role of the mythical Remington Steele, he'd insinuated himself into her personal life at every opportunity he could find. It had taken her a while to realize the desire to spend time with her didn't rise wholly from his seduction scheme, but also in large part, she'd discovered, from a deep seeded need for a connection to her. It had taken even longer for her to recognize her was more centered, calmer… more focused when they regularly spent time alone together. That hadn't changed in their years of marriage. He was a constant business partner, respectful son, steady friend, gracious and gregarious host and a warm and nurturing father, accomplishing all those roles with remarkable aplomb. But he required a certain… balance… for it all to flow with ease: Her, family, travel, friends and work.

When he'd been planning this grand holiday tradition, she'd been admittedly distracted by the Jefferson case and her father's arrival back into her life. Elsewise, it might have occurred to her that he hadn't thought it fully through. It may have been an escape from work while incorporating family, friends and travel, but it had failed to account for how much of each of their time would be consumed playing host to the multitude of friends and family filling their home. Time alone – just the two of them – would be the natural sacrifice, and one he didn't particularly fare well making. A day without, sure, he'd make do. Two days, that center of balance would lean off kilter. By the third?

She'd seen it in his eyes the night prior as he'd played poker: That need for balance, that need to have her solely to himself for a little while.

And she could hardly fault him for it, when she needed it to.

So she'd done what she was so well-verse at doing after a dozen years: She'd shut out the world around them and had focused solely on him… them.

"Anytime," she smiled now. Pressing a kiss to her gloved palm, he released her hand and reached for the door handle. Circling the Suburban, he opened the door and offered her a hand while she alighted, then, with a hand at the small of her back, led her towards the house.

 _Thump!_

"What the—" he exclaimed, as something hit him in the center of his back, and smattering of giggles followed.

"I got Da!" Holt cried gleefully. In one movement, Remington spun and gathered a handful of snow.

"A fight it's to be then, eh?" he asked, eyes narrowing on his prey. With a shriek of laughter, Holt stumbled through the snow, looking for cover.

 _Thump! Thump!_

"Hey, innocent bystander here!" Laura protested.

"I got Aunt Laura!" Alex squealed.

"I got Mommy, too!" Sophie shouted. She turned to face the pair of snowball ambushers, then leaned down and, with intent, picked up a mound of snow, shaping it as she stood.

"So it's me and your Da against the rest of you, huh?" she questioned, watching as Alex and Sophie tried to smother their giggles while their eyes moved to a point beyond her. She turned on a dime and hurled her snowball at Livvie, hitting her in the leg. Shocked, Livvie squealed then sent her snowball flying in Laura's direction, which Laura neatly dodged only to take a snowball between her shoulder blades from behind.

"Run, Sophie," Livvie screamed. Sophie's eyes widened, her lips parted, and laughing she began making knee high steps away from Laura as fast as she could.

"A little help here, Mr. Steele," Laura called. "It's three against one." Livvie's loud squeal when snow slid down the back of her neck heralded the arrival of her father.

"That's cold, Da!" she shouted around her laughter.

"Divide and conquer?" he called to Laura.

"I have these two," she shouted back as she tossed a snowball at Alex's retreating form.

"Then I've these two," he returned.

Inside, the laughter trickling in from outside drew a small crowd to the windows overlooking the snow-shrouded law.

"Papa," Daphne tugged at Christos's pant leg, "Eirene και θέλω να παίξω." (Eirene and I wish to play.) Christos shoved his tongue into his cheek, a mischievous look settling over his face.

"Κι εγώ επίσης," he mused. "Λοιπόν, βιαστείτε. Ας ντυθούμε." (So do I. Well, let's get dressed.)

"Mindy, Addy, Bronte, Colleen!" Laurie Beth shouted as she ran up the stairs. "Snowball fight!"

In quick order, the majority of the house emptied outside, with children, teens and Christos joining the action. Donald, who'd grabbed his camera, stood on the walkway snapping pictures of everyone at play, swiveling to capture images of Remington on his back in the snow. Laurie Beth, Mindy and Addy joined Laura's team, while Danny, Bronte, and Colleen joined Sophie and Alex. As snowballs flew and people ducked and weaved, Donald took several shots, then turned the camera back towards Remington, who was by now beneath a dog pile of a pair of his children and a pair of nieces, in Daphne and Eirene. Stooping down in the snow at the top of Remington's head, Christos peered down at him, grinning.

"Seems you're at a disadvantage, big brother."

"Care to join forces?" Remington offered, as he dug his gloved fingertips into Livvie's side, sending her into peals of laughter, her squirming threatening to topple the pile.

"I think that I will." Too late, Remington realized Christos had no intent ion of joining forces with him against the children, but the children against him. A loosely packed snowball hit him in the nose before he could blink.

"Children," he sputtered, "All the pizza you can eat for dinner this evening if you turn those snowballs on my brother."

"Any kind we want?" Livvie asked.

"Whatever you wish," he vowed.

Amongst yelps of happiness and excited shouts about pizza for all for anyone who gets 'Tio Christos' or 'Papa' drawing the other group into the fray, the pile dispursed, pursuing Christos with the zealousness of childhood.

"Still play underhanded, I see, Xen," Christos yelled back to Remington as he tried to evade the bevy of snowballs flying in his direction as he ducked, dodged and grabbed at snow to create ammunition of his own. Remington pushed himself up off the ground, and swiping at his snow covered attire, grinned smugly.

"Wiser," he hollered back, "I play wiser. Why go it on your own when you can lure fickle troops to your side?" He gasped when a snowball hit the back of his head and snow trickled down the back of his neck. Swiveling his head, his eyes narrowed on his treacherous, smirking wife. "So, it's to be like that, is it?" he asked, bending over, and eyes never leaving her, packed two handfuls of snow into a well made ball. Lips twitching with laughter, she held up her hands as she slowly backed away and he stalked her, much as Nero once had some invisible prey.

"Remington Chalmers Steele, don't you dare," she warned, although said admonition fell hollow given her laughter.

"And should I?" he queried, as he closed further in on her.

"Well, I can't say in the company of children," she answered, coyly. He raised a pair of brows at her, the smile on his face widening.

"Surely you're not implying our boudoir shenanigans would be suspended should I, quite rightly, seek to settle the score?" he mused.

"Well, you know how I feel about the cold," she replied. Attempting not to laugh, she widened her eyes and pressed a hand over her heart, while continuing in an innocent tone, "I am, after all, a California girl." He nodded solemnly, within a foot of her now.

"Mmmm," he hummed and pursed his lips. "Can't have you catching cold at Christmas, now can we?"

"Not at all," she agreed.

"I suppose it's up to me then…" In a show of peace, he made a display of dropping the snowball, before stepping to her and taking her waist in his hands. "…To keep you warm, hmmmm?" he hummed, leaning in to kiss her.

Too late she saw the cunning look in his eyes, and her sudden shriek, as she landed flat on her back in the snow with him atop her, drew Donald's attention. Laughing, he depressed the shutter button a pair of times.

"Mr.—" He pressed his lips to hers to halt her words, a smug look of satisfaction on his face. She continued when their lips parted "—Steele, I can't—" only to be silenced by his lips covering hers again.

"Mommy and Da, sitting in a tree," Olivia sing-songed from nearby. Giggling, Sophia joined in on the next verse.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"

"I think I liked it better when Livvie merely complainted we were kissing again," Remington noted wryly.

"First comes love…" Laura raised her brows at him.

"Shall we?" she suggested, fisting a handful of snow out of sight of the singing girls.

"Let's."

"Then comes—"

The chant ended in a pair of squeals as Remington turned to his side and threw one snowball hitting Sophie and Laura rolled out from beneath him and threw hers, hitting Livvie. Pandemonium ensued. There were no teams, and it was each man, woman and child for themselves. Even Donald, after filling a second roll of film, got in a few shots of his own.

Remington – with Sophie and Daphne hot on his heels - trudged as quick as his legs could carry him across the lawn towards the driveway, eyeing the fortress the Suburban would serve as, protecting him from incoming missiles, while he dispensed his own against potential challengers.

"Lunch is ready, Chief," Mildred called to him as he neared the walkway leading to the front door.

"Thank you, Mildred," he replied automatically. A split second later, he came to a sudden halt, and turned towards the woman, a dumbfounded look upon his face. _"Mildred?!_ What on earth are you doing—"

He fell silent when a snowball hit him in the side of the head, and another in the hip…


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Lunch had been a lively affair, with combatants sharing their triumphs on the field, while laughingly discussing misses by their opposition. Lena, Frances and Helena had returned from the slopes fifteen minutes into the meal and shared their successes and humorous failures whilst skiing. As for Mildred and Rusty's unexpected appearance… it wasn't quite as unexpected as it appeared, as Laura had hoped to surprise Remington with the pre-Christmas arrival of the woman he'd on occasion viewed a surrogate mother. Bernard had been indebted to spend the holidays with his wife's family, leaving Mildred and Rusty commitment free after the twenty-third. And Remington had, as she'd hoped, been thrilled to have Mildred there…

Once he'd shaken the snow from his eye and ear, that is.

The afternoon was about preparing for Christmas Eve and the arrival of a certain red and white clad fellow. Mildred, Catherine and Abigail iced and decorated cookies in the dining room with the assistance of children who volunteered until their interest waned, while Frances, Laura and Helena sequestered themselves in the master bedroom, wrapping gifts that had yet to be made festive. Remington, Thomas and Elena took control of the kitchen, preparing and cooking that evening's meal, which would feature a wide range of culinary delights from a simple lasagna made by Remington's hand to Moussaka made by Elena to Thomas's creation of steak and ale pie along within much more children friendly offerings of chicken nuggets, hot dogs and, yes, that promised pizza. In the meantime, Donald, Melina and Christos had volunteered to oversee the teens on the slopes during the afternoon, after which they'd stop in town so Donald could purchase more film for his camera and pick up that pizza. Marcos and Rusty took charge of retrieving gifts from the master bedroom as they were handed out, now properly festooned, and arranging them beneath the tree, while stopping by the dining room now and then to snitch a cookie or help a child in their icing and sprinkling endeavors.

A busy afternoon, for certain, but not so busy that necessary business couldn't be conducted. Sequestered in the den, Remington scrawled his signature a series of times, then collected all the papers and handed them to Jacoby.

"You may want to call Mrs. Dandrich and let her know she's officially a homeowner, just in time for Christmas," Remington advised the attorney with a smile.

"I'll do that," Jacoby agreed, returning the smile.

"Now, what have you brought in the way of listings?" Remington inquired, holding his hand out. Jacoby placed the sale contracts in his attaché then removed a stack of papers and passed them over. "Have you and Lina had an opportunity to speak?" he asked, casually, while quickly scanning each page then placing the paper in one of two piles. Jacoby laughed softly.

"It's hard to speak to someone when they are making avoiding you an art form," he grinned. "Skiing this morning, chaperoning this afternoon."

"Dare I ask what it is you've done to incur her wrath this time?"

"Other than dismissing the notion she had a mysterious suitor here, you mean?" Remington gave a short bark of laughter and nodded his head.

"That would do it," he acknowledged. Leaning back in his chair, holding his pen between his hands, he regarded Jacoby thoughtfully for a pair of seconds. Then, pursing his lips, decided to say what was on his mind. "A word of advice, mate?"

"Why not?" Jacoby shrugged and Remington nodded, contemplating his words.

"This…" he gesticulated with a hand "Dance that Lina and you do? Laura and I? We were the masters of it, and at the time, it seemed the very spice of life." He laughed ruefully, and shoving his tongue into his cheek, shook his head slowly. "It's not worth it, mate, not in the end." His brows furrowed as he stared blankly at the bookshelves behind the other man, his voice growing distant. "I've nearly lost Laura more times than I care to remember, and, trust me when I say that when that happens? You don't spend a single moment thinking about who won what battle or who managed to get the upper hand and when. Instead, you find yourself prepared to make a deal with the very devil himself if it might mean having back a single second of all that time lost." With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat and his eyes focused on Jacoby. "Marcos is a good man… a fair one, but you'd be wise not to try to put one past him, for he'll nail you to the wall if you do."

"I understand," Jacoby assured, somberly.

"I don't know that you do, or these games of yours and Lina's wouldn't have been paraded out in front of him." With a frown of indecision, Remington glanced at his hand, then with a mental nod of his head, he wriggled off his wedding band and held it out to Jacoby. "Go ahead, take it."

"Alright," Jacoby replied, clearly confused by the offering.

"Mine and Laura's wedding bands were a gift from Marcos and Elena: Family heirlooms that have been passed down from generation-to-generation." He nodded his head at the ring. "Read the inscription." With a curious lift of his brow, Jacoby turned the ring until he found the ancient text.

"' _Agapi Mou, Zoi Mou',"_ he read aloud.

"Close," Remington laughed, then provided the correct pronunciation. "Have any idea what it means?" Jacoby lifted and dropped a hand while shaking his head.

"Not a clue."

"Roughly translated: 'My love, my life'," Remington shared. "In the Androkus family, love is not temporary or conditional, it's infinite and absolute." He held out his hand for his ring then slipped it back on his finger. "There is no infidelity just as there is no divorce. If Marcos even _suspects_ you don't feel the same, you won't receive his blessing." Advice dispensed he sat forward and began scanning the lists again, quickly discarding the bulk of them. "Property is still selling low in Northridge and Lina has mentioned the families there find the community to be a good one…" he flashed the other man a quick smile "…Earthquake aside. I've been looking into Lancaster. Good community, low crime, property is inexpensive and the value is slowly on the rise. There is a pair of fairly large bungalows on East Avenue J1 that I'm particularly interested in." He handed Jacoby the half dozen listings he'd approved. "We'll have Lina and Jocelyn take a look at these after the holiday." Leaning back, he threw the rejected listings into the trash can next to his desk, then folded his hands over his stomach. "Anything else, Foundation wise?"

"That's all," Jacoby replied as he put the papers into his attaché and prepared to rise, but Remington beat him to his feet and lay a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Then I'll just go get Marcos." He nearly laughed when the man paled.

"Now?"

"No time like the present," Remington grinned. "We'll be sitting down to dinner soon, and afterwards Christmas Eve festivities will begin." With a companionable slap on Jacoby's shoulder, he stepped out of the office, leaving the other man standing to pace the room anxiously.

Marcos was surprisingly elusive.

A stop in the dining room – or cookie central – provided a…

"We're helping with the cookies, Da!" Sophie shared, proudly.

"So I see, and a fine job you're doing, a thaisce." A glance at Livvie evoked laughter, given the streaks of green and red icing on cheeks and forehead. "And you, a stór, seem to be getting as much icing on yourself as those cookies of yours," he teased. Livvie merely grinned at him, and returned to concentrating on her cookies.

"I believe he's in the kitchen, dear," Abigail provided, followed by a, "I think I'm going to see if Laura and Frances need help with their wrapping."

The kitchen proved Marcos-less, as Elena bustled around and Thomas stood at the island with Holt at his elbow while Holt tore lettuce, dropping into a pair of large salad bowls and Thomas attended to slicing tomatoes and cucumbers to add to the spinach, romaine and iceberg.

"Granddad and me are making salad," Holt boasted. Remington snitched a piece of lettuce from the bowl.

"And a delicious salad it will be, mo mhac," Remington praised, scruffing his son's hair, before turning to Elena. "Elena, any idea where Marcos has taken himself off to?"

"He has gone to gather gifts," she provided, waving a wooden spoon in the general direction of the master bedroom.

"Thank you." With a quick buss against her cheek, he trekked next to the master bedroom.

A polite pair of sharp raps of knuckles to wood, warning the women within company had arrived, and he swung open the door. Sticking his head in the crack, he peered around the room.

"Elena thought Marcos was here retrieving gifts," he announced to the room in general.

"A couple of minutes ago," Laura answered. "I imagine he's arranging them around the tree." He nodded head at her, and began to close the door, then opened it again.

"Abigail's on her way to assist," he forewarned. She gave him a sharp nod of her head this time, and he left the room closing the door behind him.

In the living room, he at last found his quarry.

"Ah, Marcos, here you are," Remington called. "A minute of your time if you don't mind?"

"Xenos, my son, for you? All the time you should need!" Marcos agreed jovially, pushing himself slowly up to his feet. Remington tipped his head to the side, noticing the bit of effort it took for the man to get up. In his mind, Marcos was always the robust man that had found a child hiding on a ship then had taken him in, but moments like these served as a disconcerting reminder that time remained still for no man.

"Shall we?" Remington held out a hand in the direction of the hallway that would lead around the kitchen to the den. "I imagine Zeth and Calista's children will be up about now, begging to open their gifts."

"You have truly become Americanized in your thinking, Xenos," Marcos laughed. "Gifts would have been opened before Mass last evening, and now the children await Agios Vassilis's arrival on the New Year." Remington scratched at his chin, thoughtfully.

"Bound to happen, I suppose, given I've spent more than a quarter of my life here." The hand that landed on the back of Remington's shoulder sent him stumbling ahead by half a step.

"It is a life that suits you well, Xenos."

"Mmmm, I certainly think so," Remington concurred, with a quick smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You bring Elena and I great pride," Marcos praised, giving Remington's shoulder – and the rest of him – a hearty shake. "Now, what do you think of our Melina's Jacoby, eh?"

"Hardworking, committed to his work with the Foundation, honest, even tempered, a bit stiff necked at times." Remington assessed.

"But is he right for our Melina?" Marcos wondered.

"They've lived in one another's pockets the last two years or thereabout; that ought to count for something," Remington considered. "He respects the woman she is and finds her periodic bouts of pique amusing." He laughed softly. "He's more entertained than annoyed by Lina's antics, and he's proven he'll never allow her to steam roll over him liked most men would do."

"These, these are all good things!" Marcos pronounced. "But does this Jacoby love our Melina? _That_ is what matters most." Remington pursed his lips and considered the question.

"I've never asked, truth be told, but that he's stuck it out this long and intends to ask you for her hand speaks volumes, at least in my mind." He came to a stop outside of the study doors, then smiled mischievously at Marcos. "But have a bit of fun with the bloke, will you, eh?" Marcos eyes twinkled at the suggestion and his wide smile displayed his gold tooth.

"Would an Androkus do anything but?" he laughed, then with another hearty slap to Remington's shoulder, he reached for the knob of the door…

* * *

"Two pepperoni, one sausage, one pineapple, two with everything but anchovies, one vegetarian and one plain cheese… Mmm hmm… yes… that's right… Piper, Donald Piper…" Remington's eyes followed Laura as she stomped past him into the kitchen, going straight to the kitchen sink and turning on the water. "Yes, P-I-P-E-R…"

"You needn't trouble with the dishes, Laura," Thomas told her. "I'm more than happy—"

"It's fine," she replied in a tone that suggested _she_ was anything but fine. Thomas exchanged a curious look with Remington, who held up a finger requesting a moment.

"Five o'clock would be fine… Yes, yes, we'll see you then. Bye-bye." Hanging up the phone, he joined Laura at the sink. Picking up a dish towel and taking the first, freshly washed bowl from her hand.

"That woman," she groused in an undertone. "Had we given her a room here in the house, she wouldn't have been happy. She would have gone on and on _and on_ about the chaos, people always underfoot, not a moment of privacy to be found. So we build her a house, a _literal house_ , and now…"

"Now what?" he inquired quickly, setting the dried bowl aside and taking the next from her.

"Now she wants to know why Rusty and Mildred get to stay in the main house, claims we are treating an _employee_ – her words, not mine – more like family than her, given they're in the main house while she's been banished to Siberia. Banished!" she groused.

"I can speak with her if you'd like," he offered.

"No!" she barked, slapping a plate into his hand. Wincing, he gave the stinging hand a good shake before drying the plate.

"I'm sure I can get Abigail to come round—"

"No!" she repeated emphatically, cutting him off, as he set down the plate and stepped away from the sink. "We're not going to cater to this grand conspiracy she's created in her mind. I mean, the _gall—"_ Her words stumbled to a halt, when an arm wrapped around her waist from behind, and a pair of lips trailed kisses along the back of her neck and a thumb stroked her stomach.

"Adhraím thú," he murmured, next to her ear. The words sent shivers coursing over her, as memories of long nights of making love and him whispering words of love and seduction in Gaelic pranced through her mind, much as he'd intended. Although she knew the question fruitless, as he'd never provide the answer, she dared to ask…

"What does that mean?" The phrase wasn't one he'd used before. He chuckled softly behind her.

"Ah, Mrs. Steele, what's—"

A piercing scream from upstairs, brought his teasing reply to an end.

"Sophie," Laura noted, as her heart plummeted to her toes.

The scream had chilled her to the marrow, as she knew, instinctively, that it had been induced by pain. Shoving herself away from Remington, she bolted out of the kitchen and through the living room to the staircase that would take her upwards to where her daughter's scream had come from. Remington bounded up the stairs behind her, as a tearful and distraught Olivia scampered her way down the flight of stairs, seeking an adult to help. He swept her up in his arms as he and Laura maneuvered the final four steps. Locking her small arms around his neck, she burrowed her face into his shoulder.

"We did just like in Grandma's story," Olivia sobbed, "But it didn't work."

"What story?" Laura bit out, as she plowed through the door into the girls' room. "Oh, Soph," she drew out the words as she rushed across the room to where Sophie sat, tears streaming and mouth dribbling blood.

"I'll get a cold washcloth," Frances promised, stumbling into the room right after Remington. Just as quickly, she disappeared.

"What happened?" Laura drew out the words as she dropped to her knees and took Sophie's head in her hands to examine her. Remington sat Livvie down on her feet, then, squatting, picked up the string tied around the doorknob that had caught his attention. Drawing the length to him, he found blood at the looped and knotted end.

"Whatever it was, I suspect it has to do with this," he held up the string.

"Here you are," Frances announced as she rushed back into the room, holding out a washcloth towards Laura. Laura's eyes flickered to the string in Remington's hand, as she took the offered cloth.

"Livvie? Is Da correct?" she asked while dabbing at the blood on Sophie's lips.

"We just did like Grandma's story," Livvie repeated. Sophie backed up her sister's claim with a teary nod.

"What story?" Laura asked again.

"Isn't obvious, Laura?" Frances stepped in. "Why I remember you trying the very same thing with Mikey after Mother told you the story when you were just about Sophie and Livvie's age." Remington's ears perked up at this tidbit, while Laura's eyes traveled from Sophie to string to doorknob.

"Tried what exactly?" he prodded.

"Well, you'd think it would make her think twice before telling the story again," Laura huffed at Frances. "Open your mouth, sweet girl, and let me check things out," she directed her daughter. Livvie, angst quelled by her parents' presence, crossed the room and stooped down next to Laura to peer into Sophie's mouth as well.

"Ewwww," Livvie declared, upon seeing the hanging tooth.

"What story?" Remington tried again.

"You're the detective, Mr. Steele, figure it out," Laura snapped, then sat back on her haunches and stroked a hand over Sophie's head. "Well, we're going to have to pull it out the rest of the way," she assessed. Remington's eyes moved from the string on the knob, to the still looped, bloody end of the string, to Sophie while Sophie slapped both hands over her mouth and with widened eyes shook her head emphatically.

"You don't mean to tell me she tied this…"

"Uh huh," Laura confirmed, her focus still on Sophie. "I promise you it will barely hurt." Sophie shook her head again.

"Then they tied the string to—"

"Uh huh. I'll do it fast," she promised her eldest daughter.

"Then—"

"I slammed the door like Grandma said," Livvie helped. Remington winced as he pictured the scene.

"Why in heaven's name would anyone—"

"Sophie wants the Tooth Fairy to come," his youngest daughter explained, as though it was the most logical thing in the world.

"Well, that wish will certainly be coming true now," Laura grumbled. "Okay, Soph, on the count of three, I'm going to pull." Laura warned. "One…" She gave the tooth a firm yank, as Sophie protested with a squeak.

"You said three, Mommy," Sophie accused crossly.

"Ahhhh," Laura drew out the word, "But by doing it on one, you didn't have a chance to think about how much it might hurt on three." With the tap of an index finger to the tip of Sophie's nose and a smile, she pointed to the bathroom. "Go rinse your mouth out, and start cleaning up. I'll be in to help in just a second." Still squatting, she shifted slightly to look Olivia in the eye. "New rule: No removing body parts, even if it's only a tooth, unless your Da or I say you can. Do you understand?" Livvie's eyes flickered to Remington, who lifted his brows at her. Livvie knew what that meant: Listen to your mother.

"Yes, Mommy," she finally answered, albeit a bit reluctantly.

"Good. Now, go play with your cousins while I help your sister," Laura directed in tone that brooked no argument. She and Remington stood at the same time.

"What are we going to do with the two of them?" she lamented, then frowned. "Better yet, what are we going to do with my mother? What was she even thinking telling the girls that story?" she fumed.

"I'm sure she didn't mean any harm, Laura," he assured, as he strode turned towards the bathroom door. "To her, it was nothing more than an amusing anecdote." Taking the washcloth from Sophie's hand, he rinsed it out under cold water, then began clearing the blood from Sophie's face.

"Well, she ought to know you can't tell the girls a story like that," Laura pursued. "Which reminds me," she squeezed further into the bathroom so she could look Sophie in the face, "We have a new rule: There will be no removing body parts, even if it's only a tooth, unless your Da or I say you can. Understood?"

"Yes, Mommy," Sophie replied, contritely, then spoke aloud a troublesome thought. "Will the Tooth Fairy still come?"

"As long as you put your tooth under your pillow, I'm sure she will," Laura reassured. When a final inspection by Remington confirmed all traces of blood were gone, she held out her hand to Sophie. "Let's find somewhere safe to put your tooth for now and the once we get your clothes changed, you can go play..."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jacoby came up short as the door to the office swung open, and Melina's short, portly father stepped inside the room with a glower already upon his face. Digging deep, he forced a smile on his face and held out his hand.

"Mr. Androkus," he greeted. Marcos merely grunted in answer, as he took the man's hand in his, delivering a hand-crushing shake.

"Xenos has told me you wish to have a word," he remarked in a cool tone as he released Jacoby's hand then sat in the desk chair and propped his feet on the corner of the desk in a move meant to imply a superior position between the two men.

"Uh… yes, sir," Jacoby confirmed, rubbing his hands together nervously as he took a seat across the desk from Marcos. Clearing his throat, he began, "Melina and I have been, uh, seeing one another for a while and—"

"I do not understand," Marcos interrupted. "What is this 'seeing one another'?" The question caught Jacoby off guard and his thoughts sputtered for an instant, before his brain kicked back into gear.

"Dating?" he suggested. "Melina and I have been dating for some time and—"

"How long is this," Marcos gesticulated in the air with a hand, "'some time'?"

"Since January of '92, more or less," Jacoby clarified. Marcos steepled his fingers and tilted his head.

" _This_ … This I do not understand. How does one court another 'more or less'?" Jacoby's moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and looked around the room, wondering if the room was becoming uncomfortably hot or if it was just him. How did one explain to the father of the woman one wished to marry that he and Lina had enjoyed an open relationship the first pair of years, only becoming exclusive once they'd begun sharing a bed regularly over the last year?

"We, uh, agreed, umm…" With a single finger he tugged at the neck of his sweater, which suddenly seemed to be tightening like a noose. "We, uh, both, uh, agreed to explore all our, um, options before we began seeing each other exclusive—" He stumbled to a stop when Marcos dropped his feet to the floor and sat up suddenly, leveling a fierce scowl upon the other man.

"You believed my Melina not good enough for you?" he demanded to know.

"No, no, no. I never said that," Jacoby defended lifting his hands up, holding his palms out towards Marcos. "Things were just, uh, complicated." Marcos took to his feet and stalked across the room, concealing his smile. Making the man squirm was more amusing than he'd imagined it would be. Fastening the scowl back on his face, he turned to look at Jacoby again.

"Complicated?" Marcos snorted. "My Melina is a beautiful woman—"

"Yes, she is," Jacoby hurriedly agreed.

"With a heart of gold. She's intelligent, determined—"

"I agree!"

"Loyal, hard-working—" Jacoby surged to his feet, irritated by the litany of Melina's finest points, although it was her rougher edges that had played as much of a part in their open arrangement as his own had.

"Don't forget demanding, temperamental and stubborn as a mule," he countered, voice rising to match Marcos's. He grimaced, immediately regretting the outburst, as it ran contrary to his end goals, and held up his hands in apology. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he offered.

The two men's heads turned as one as a child's scream broke the air.

"A moment," Marcos held up a hand as he strode towards the office door. Slinging it open, he barreled down the hall, spying Laura and Remington making a dash for the staircase. With a nod of acknowledgment the matter was in good hands, he returned to the office and shut the door behind him. "Our Lara and Xenos will see to it. If our Melina is a difficult as you say, why – how you say – were you 'seeing each other'?" Marcos inquired as though there had never been a lull in the conversation.

"I didn't say she's difficult. She's… complicated," Jacoby corrected.

"Melina is complicated. 'Seeing each other' is complicated. It seems everything in your eyes is complicated," Marcos observed, feigning disdain. "Why even bother?" Jacoby paced several steps then lifted and dropped his hands, helplessly.

"Because sometimes, no matter how complicated someone or something is, you discover you're incapable of turning away," Jacoby sighed. "There is nothing simple about Melina or the two of us together, but it works. _We_ work." Sighing again, he sat back down in the chair he'd left. "And I can't imagine my life without Melina in it." Marcos nodded his head as he sat back down in the desk chair.

"You love my daughter," he assessed.

"God help me, but yes, I do," Jacoby confirmed, a weary note in his tone. He looked up, stunned, as Marcos let loose a belly rumbling laugh.

"Then ask me what it is you came here to ask," he insisted, a jubilant note in his voice. It took a long second for Jacoby's mind to click back into gear as he stared, dumbfounded, at the man seated across from him. Was Marcos serious? _What the hell, may as well go for broke._

"Will you allow me the honor of asking Lina for her hand in marriage?" he requested, shifting slightly in his seat, feeling a bit foolish at uttering the undeniably old-fashioned request.

"This I do not know," Marcos replied. Jacoby went from dumbfounded to utterly confused.

"I'm sorry," he fumbled. "I don't understand." Had the man set him up to make him look the fool?

"Xenos assures me you are a good man, one who will bring Melina much happiness," Marcos informed him. "Yet there are other matters of great importance that must also be considered."

"I make a good living, an honest—" Marcos waved a dismissive hand.

"No, no. From Xenos, this I already know. The Androkus's, we are a family of strong faith," Marcos decreed. "Are you Catholic?"

"No, but I'm willing to convert." Marcos leaned back in his chair.

"Mmm. This is good although I am certain my impatient daughter will find complaint with the delay." Jacoby's brows drew together.

"Delay?" The question drew a loud, amused laugh from Marcos.

"You believe it is so easy as to say 'I am Catholic now'?" Jacoby's blank look brought forth another laugh. "Ordo Initiationis Christianae Adultorum can take years, and then, of course, there is the baptism."

"Years?" Jacoby croaked. "Why years?"

"You must first learn our beliefs, our practices and still then you will require reflection, prayer before you can truly commit yourself to the faith." Jacoby shook his head.

"I've accompanied Melina to services many times over the past year. I was christened Presbyterian, but my family attended church only on Christmas and Easter. Since I have no real ties to any denomination, the decision to convert was an easy one," Jacoby shared. "Can it be done in six months?" Marcos brows lifted in surprise.

"I have heard of those who've accomplished such. It would require, however, great commitment as there is much to learn," he cautioned.

"Not a problem," Jacoby vowed. "Envisioning Lina walking down the aisle to me sooner-rather-than-later will more than serve as the inspiration to bury myself in my studies." Marcos gave a sharp nod, considering the topic concluded.

"The wedding will be in Oia – This Elena will demand," he pronounced.

"I assumed Melina would insist on as much," Jacoby conceded, easily.

"Ioseph will not perform the sacrament of marriage until you and Melina meet with him for premarital counsel," Marcos continued.

"Ioseph?" Jacoby wondered.

"Father Ioseph, Elena's nephew," Marcos's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile, "He takes personal interest in… our immortal souls."

"Done," Jacoby agreed. Marcos's smile faded, and his eyes turned hard. The room began to seem uncomfortably warm again.

"You will care for our Melina as we do, you will respect her as we do, and should you ever raise a hand to her—"

"That will _never_ happen," Jacoby cut in adamantly.

"That is good, because you never wish to feel the wrath of Melina's father and brothers." Swallowing hard, Jacoby acknowledged the threat for what it was. "You will keep her heart as we do, and should you break it—"

"The wrath?" Jacoby guessed. A single, icy gazed nod confirmed. Jacoby wet his lips, his gaze never leaving the man across the desk as he continued to pepper him with information.

"You will honor all of your vows—"

"Or the wrath again?" he speculated.

"You should be so fortunate, for it is Melina's wrath you will endure," Marcos portended, gravely. Jacoby grimaced.

"I see what you mean."

"Melina will come home as she does now, at least twice a year," Marcos continued.

"Yes, of course," Jacoby agreed, his head beginning to swim from the warnings and decrees.

"And the children's…"

"Ch-… children?" He'd assumed Melina would want to have _a child,_ but plural? She'd be thirty-five by the time they wed, and he'd be - his heart beat a little faster as his head did the quick calculations – forty, ready for social security by the time one child graduated college. Multiple? They'd be visiting him in the nursing home before they were grown.

"… baptisms, confirmations and communions will be in Oia ."

"Uh, yes, of course." How did the Steele's make all their travels seem so effortless, Jacoby wondered. Wedding, baptisms, confirmations, communions, an anniversary here and there – were they all in addition to the bi-annual visits? How would they take that much time off work? Would Lina even want to continue working once she was a mother? She enjoyed her job, but from what he'd observed and heard of the Androkus's, it appeared the women concentrated all their efforts on hearth and home.

"Then, you have the blessing of Elena and I," Marcos finished.

"Ah, yes, of course," Jacoby replied, by rote, before shaking free of his thoughts and hastily correcting himself, "I mean, thank you." He stood on somewhat wobbly legs and offered his future father-in-law a hand. Marcos brushed his hand to the side as he stood before circling the desk to stand in front of a wary Jacoby.

"Acquaintances shake hands. But now? Now you are now considered family!" he decreed, wrapping the man in a bear hug and squeezing the air from his lungs with his fierce embrace. Jacoby wagered he'd have a fairly good sized bruise where Marcos smacked his shoulder a pair of times before releasing him and walking towards the office door.

"Melina? Is she aware of your intentions?" Still a bit dazed from their conversation, it took Jacoby a second to fully understand what he'd been asked.

"I don't believe so, no," he answered honestly.

"But you believe she will agree?" The thought that Melina wouldn't say yes hadn't crossed his mind… until now. But the only answer he could come up with – after all he'd gone through to get her father's permission to ask – was…

"God, I hope so…"

* * *

"Ah, Jacoby, there you are," Remington greeted, a little bit more loudly than necessary. He landed a firm slap on the same shoulder Marcos had already abused, making Jacoby jump, then stiffen for another blow when Remington's hand landed to rest on his shoulder. "If you don't mind my saying so," he said, as he steered Jacoby towards the billiards room, "You look as though you could use a drink." Jacoby's shoulders sagged beneath his hand.

"You have no idea," he agreed.

"Oh, I might," Remington laughed.

"You mean you and Mrs.—"

"Did he do the same to Laura and I? Not at all, but our situation was far different than yours. As a son, Marcos would not be compelled to grill me, so to speak, as he would a future son-in-law. And Laura?" He pursed his lips and shook his head. "No one would dare doubt either her sincerity or intentions. She's as straight an arrow as they come, but you know that."

"Then how could you _possibly_ have any idea what the man just put me through?" Jacoby protested, inspiring another laugh from the man beside him.

"Because I know Marcos well," he grinned then admitted, "And I might have encouraged him to have a bit of fun with you." Jacoby turned his head to look at Remington, an amazed look on his face, as they stepped through the doorway and into the billiards room.

"Ah, my future brother-in-law," Christos called out from where he sat at a table, still wearing ski pants and a turtleneck, his parka slung carelessly over the chair on which his feet were propped. With a cocky grin, he lifted his glass of scotch in mock salute to Jacoby.

"Have a seat, I'll get the drinks," Remington directed.

"Top mine off, if you don't mind, big brother," Christos requested, holding out his tumbler. Remington grunted his agreement as Jacoby took a seat at the table.

"So all that business about the wrath of father and sons was for show?" Christos barked a laugh.

"If you hurt Melina in any way?" he challenged. "There would be no place for you to hide."

"Never mind Christos," Remington advised, "His bark is much worse than his bite, in fact some might say that his bite is barely even a nibble."

"Is that so, Xen? Funny, I seem to recall getting the better of you whenever we came to blows. Need we engage in a round of fisticuffs as a reminder?" Remington grinned as he sat a tumbler of scotch in front of Jacoby and Christos.

"Not only unnecessary, but far too juvenile for men of our refinement," he answered as he returned to the bar to retrieve his own glass. "If, however, you wish to strap on the gloves and go a few rounds in the ring sometime, I'd be more than happy to remind you who won those tussles of ours."

"In June, then. I'll be sure to reserve us some time in the gym," Christos accepted the challenge, holding out his hand to shake on it.

"Done," Remington agreed. "Dare I ask what promises Marcos managed to wring from you?" he addressed Jacoby as he took a seat across from him.

"It's still all so fuzzy," Jacoby admitted with a frown. "Conversion, of course." Both men nodded as that was a foregone conclusion. "The wedding will be in Greece." Grunts of acknowledgment from both men. "He seems to expect children, as in the plural." This bit was met by nods and laughter from Remington and Christos. "Chil _dren._ I'll turn forty in April and Lina's not exactly in her twenties—"

"You might not want to remind Lina of that," Remington cut in to comment ruefully, "Or you'll find yourself making friends with a couch for a long time afterwards." Jacoby puffed a breathy laugh, and nodded his head in agreement.

"What are the three of you doing hiding out in here?" Laura asked, as she stepped into the room. "We'll be sitting down for dinner in ten." Remington held out an open arm, beckoning her to join them. She took the arm as an open invitation and settled on his lap, plucking the glass of scotch from his hand and enjoying a sip.

"Jacoby just had a _little chat_ …" he raised his brows to emphasize the significance of that conversation "…with Marcos." She straightened slightly in Remington's lap, and looked at Jacoby with widened eyes.

"You mean—" His curt nod confirmed her suspicions. "Oh my, to be a fly on that particular wall," she mused.

"Baptisms, Communion, Confirmation, all in Oia," Jacoby continued with the list of Marcos's edicts.

"Don't forget first confession," Laura reminded. Jacoby's eyes bulged at the news.

"First confession? We'd save a great deal of time, not to mention a small fortune, by simply moving to Oia!" he lamented.

"It's not that bad," Laura assured with a laugh. "Sophie and Livvie will have their first confessions and First Communions while we're in Oia in June, just as all three children were baptized during our yearly visit."

"And you don't find it… overwhelming... that all these… rites of passage, I guess you'd call them, have to take place in Greece rather than here, where you live _?_ " Jacoby wondered. Taking another sip of Remington's scotch, she handed her husband his glass while shrugging a careless shoulder.

"I guess it never occurred to me to mind," she admitted. "The Androkus's are as much Remington's family as my mother and sister are mine. My family benefits from the children living in LA year round, so it seems only fair, at least in my eyes, that certain occasions are celebrated in Oia."

"And your family doesn't resent that all these momentous occasions – weddings, baptisms, communions, confirmations, anniversaries - occur half a world away?" Jacoby suggested.

"Oh, my mother's had her share of complaints," Laura replied, "But believe me when I say, if she wasn't complaining about a baptism in Oia, she'd be lecturing me on the finer points of family obligations," she added wryly. "As far as I'm concerned, what's to resent? My family gets birthdays and _all_ the holidays. Frankly, I can't imagine celebrating our anniversary anywhere but in Oia. It is where we were married, after all." She pressed softly against Remington for a brief second, in answer to his gentle, appreciative squeeze of her waist.

"A bit of advice?" Remington offered. Jacoby lifted and dropped a hand.

"Why not."

"You're wasting time worrying about trips I wager you'll not only find quite enjoyable but will actually look forward to. You've a much bigger problem to concern yourself with." Remington's eyes traveled from Laura to Christos as he spoke, a mischievous light in their blue depths. Jacoby's brows drew together.

"What problem?"

"Ioseph!" Laura, Remington and Christos replied in unison. Jacoby stared at Christos.

"Your mother's nephew?" Christos took a long pull of his drink, then grinned at the man.

"The very one." Jacoby looked next to Remington.

"The priest?"

"One and the same," he confirmed. Jacoby's eyes settled on Laura.

"The one who takes 'an interest in our immortal souls'?" She snorted a surprised laugh.

"Is _that_ what Marcos told you?" she asked in disbelief. Remington's patted her on the thigh, drawing her eyes to him.

"I did tell Marcos to have a bit of fun with him," he grinned.

"To have fun with him, not to outright lie to him, I hope," she replied. Next to them, Christos thrummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully.

"It wouldn't be a _lie,_ precisely. It is what Ioseph claims to do," he pointed out.

"I suppose," Laura conceded, drawing out the words, "But still…" Jacoby's brows knitted together in another frown.

"He's a priest!" he protested.

"Which doesn't stop him from using the confessional and family dinners as a means to extract a pound of flesh whenever the inclination strikes," Christos noted, fingering the edge of his glass.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad," Jacoby countered again. "He's—"

"A priest," the trio said in unison again.

"Laura, tell Jacoby about your first encounter with Ioseph," Remington prodded.

* * *

 _ **"I don't understand. How did I get a two hundred Hail Mary's and Our Father's? I would do anything to make the world a better place. I don't ask for much, I'm not materialistic. I rarely lie. So how do I end up with triple what you got? I'm the good one!"**_

* * *

"I hadn't been to confession since I was a teen," she shared, "And was held accountable for _every_ transgression since my last confession." Jacoby suddenly laughed, drawing more than one pair of raised brows in his direction.

"Oh, I get it!" he declared, smugly. "Now that Marcos has 'had his fun' with me, it's your turn." The accusation evoked laughter from the other two men.

"If only you were so lucky," Christos retorted. "Although," he added thoughtfully, looking at his brother, "Ioseph has always taken it remarkably easy on Lina… At least in my opinion." Remington scratched his chin while considering the suggestion.

"Well, she is considerably younger than us," he commented, as he patted on Laura's hip, a hint she should rise, "So he might not see her as one of his childhood nemeses." Standing as well, he gathered their dirty glasses and set them on the bar. "Dinner," he reminded with a nod towards the general area of the dining room.

"So you think Ioseph might go easy on Jacoby?" Laura surmised, with a pinch of envy as the four adults walked towards the door to the gaming room. How many times had she been made to pay the price for Ioseph's petty need to extract vengeance on his childhood foes?

"He might," Remington speculated, with a shrug of his shoulders. Then with a wicked glance cast Laura's way, he added, "Then again, if Ioseph is truly fond of Lina, I'd hate to be the man who confesses to sharing a bed with her before they wed."

Behind the couple, Jacoby stumbled, kept upright only by the quick hand of a laughing Christos…

* * *

 _ **A/N: The next two chapter installment will be the final chapters of Steele A Story of A Sled, wrapping up on 'Christmas Day.' We will be returning to Steele Bound at this story's conclusion.**_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

House expanded or not, seating twenty-nine people around the massive Christmas tree in the expansive family room required rearranging of furniture, performed by Christos and Jacoby under the direction of Laura. A quartet of buffet tables was set up at one end of the room to hold the wide selection of sugary treats and carafes of hot tea, coffee, milk and juice for everyone to enjoy. Elena, Helena, Thomas and Remington had each contributed to the array of confections, honoring their country – and family's - traditions: From Elena and Helena, baklava, theeples, and melomakarono; from Thomas, Christmas poppers, mince pies and, with Laura on his mind, cheesecake bars topped with toasted coconut and chocolate chips, then drizzled with dark chocolate; and, from Remington, a selection of scones and tarts… and lest it be forgotten, platters of the cookies the children had decorated. The final touch to the room? A roaring fire and Christmas music wafting softly from carefully concealed speakers around the room.

Gift giving had required a great deal of thought, as every family had arrived in Vail from far off places and would need to transport gifts home… or arrange to have them shipped. Therefore, a firm rule had been established: One present per person – no more – from each family, except for their own, from whom they could receive three. Still, when one considered what would be received on Christmas Eve and Christmas day, the sheer volume of what any one person might take home with them could seem daunting. The Androkus children, for instance, would receive a gift each from Marcos and Elena, Lina, Thomas and Catherine and the Steeles, along with three from their parents. Eight gifts might not seem a lot, until you considered that those eight gifts combined with the three gifts 'Santa' would bring each child, meant sixty-six presents for the children alone would be making a trip back to Oia.

In Remington's recollection, this Christmas had been a first, as Laura had taken staunch control over shopping for the gifts that would travel to Vail with them – although his own contributions for their children's Christmas would be waiting under the tree for the children when they arrived home. With her mind on gifts having to travel home, she'd – quite amazingly – managed to purchase tasteful, meaningful gifts for all their friends and extended family that fit into the confines of a single suitcase: Charm bracelets for the four youngest Androkus girls, Sophie, Livvie and Esme; Tasteful necklaces for the two eldest Androkus girls, Mindy, Lina, and Helena; Silk scarves for Mildred, Elena, and Catherine; a driving cap for Rusty; and new watches for all the men in the family, including Danny. As for her mother, Donald and Frances? Well, those gifts could be contained in a single envelope. Those carefully thought through choices had left plenty of room in that suitcase for three Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle action figures – the fourth and final Turtle the Piper's gift – for Holt; coveted jewelry making sets for Livvie and Sophie… Plus a surprise for the girls that would 'make' their holiday.

By eight o'clock the family room was teeming with people: Adults seated on a trio of couches and a handful of club chairs, and children seated scattered on the floor around the tree. To keep a modicum of order to the present opening festivities, it had been decided the oldest two children from each family would distribute presents to everyone else: Mindy and Danny representing the Pipers, Addy and Bronte for the Androkus's, and, of course, Sophie and Livvie representing the Steeles. Presents were distributed in record time, and soon Laura was cringing as the room was filled with the sounds of paper being shredded as gifts were uncovered, although the smile on her face at the exclamations of children and adults alike over their gifts was very genuine.

"Mommy, I got Rafel and 'Nardo!" from Holt, then later, "Da, I got Dontello and Mike-lange-o and Thomas train too!"

"Oooooh," the shiny object lover Livvie appreciated her charm bracelet, "It's _beautiful!_ " Jumping up, she ran across the room to show Remington. "It has a ballerina and gymnastic on it!"

"So I see. Perfect for our little ballerina and gymnast then, eh?" Livvie nodded vigorously. "And Grandma gave me and Sophie movies! Pocahontas and the Secret Garden…" She frowned, forgetting the last title, then raced across the room to check before returning "…And Thumbelina!"

"Mmmm. Perhaps a hug to thank her is in order then, don't you think?" As Livvie darted across the room to give Abigail that suggested hug, Sophie's delighted shriek had Remington and Laura's heads swiveling in her direction to look at her.

"Pierced earrings?" she asked in disbelief, as she pushed to her feet and scrambled towards her parents. "Can I really, really, _really_ get my ears pierced?"

"Well," Laura drew out the word, "I _thought_ you said it was really and truly what you wanted most in the whole wide world for Christmas, didn't you? Or was that another little girl?"

"I did! I did!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down.

"Then I suppose we'll have to take you to have your ears pierced when we get home, hmmmm?" Remington suggested, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement at his oldest daughter.

"Uh-huh," she nodded her head vigorously.

Livvie had been watching the scene play out while thanking her grandmother and rushed back to her parents.

"Me too?" she asked, hopefully.

"Well, I don't know," Laura feigned uncertainty, and looked to Remington as though checking with him. "What do you think?"

"I suppose that depends on whether or not she received earrings, too," he replied before turning his gaze to his youngest daughter. "Did you get earrings as well?" Livvie glanced back at remaining unopened presents and gnawed her lip.

"I don't know," she answered, honestly.

"Well, if it were me, I'd have to find out," Laura suggested. Livvie looked from her mother to her father, trying to assess the odds of her finding them there. She ran back across the room, kneeling before her presents and opening them with verve. Only a couple gifts remained when she shouted…

"I did! I did get them!"

"Then I guess Sophie _and_ you are going to get your ears pierced," Laura smiled.

"Laura, this is too much! We can't possibly accept it." Frances protested from where she sat next to Donald on the couch catty corner to the one where Remington, Laura, Thomas and Catherine sat. Laura held up a hand in answer.

"We'd planned to send you and Donald to France for your twentieth anniversary," Laura began explaining.

"A second honeymoon, of a sort," Remington elaborated.

"As it turned out," Laura continued, "The timing wasn't optimal given you had just begun fostering Alex. We knew you'd be unwilling to leave without him, and taking him with you wouldn't be a possibility."

"France? But the tickets are for London?" she questioned, confused.

"Laura and I sold the house in France some months back," Remington provided. The comment fully captured Abigail's attention.

"Daniel's villa?" Her shock was genuine and her remorse unexpected. Remington stroked a hand across his mouth then splayed the fingers over his chin and jaw.

"It was time."

"I have many fond memories of my time there with him… and after," Abigail shared, wistfully. He drew Laura's discerning eye to him when he shifted subtly next to her.

"I never spent time with him at the villa. I'd an ongoing…" he waggled his brows at Laura, who rolled her eyes in answer "…project… here that required my full attention; frolicking on the beach in the South of France wasn't a possibility."

"Daniel lived in the Hanover Terrace house for some time," Laura informed one and all, then turned her attention to her sister. "You'll love it, Frances. The house is not only beautiful, thanks to Thomas and Catherine, but it's across the street from Regent's Park and Central to nearly everything."

"You'll have to join Catherine and I at our country home for a day," Thomas insisted.

"Oh, yes, please do," Catherine joined. "The children would adore the horses, I'm quite sure and should you visit in the spring, we've several mares about to foal."

"Oh, we wouldn't want to impose," Frances hesitated.

"It's not an imposition at all," Thomas corrected. "There's little more Catherine and I enjoy than the sound of a child's laughter filling the house."

"Music to one's ears, eh?" Marcos chimed in, with a deep, belly shaking laugh.

"Aww, you can say that again," Mildred seconded. "It makes my day anytime I get to see the kiddos."

"Speaking of…" Remington nodded his head in the direction of their dark-haired son, who was scrubbing a fist into an eye. It was all the encouragement Holt needed. He crossed the room and crawled up into his father's lap, then curled up against him.

"Da, is it bedtime? I tired," he yawned, clutching a handful of Remington's sweater in his hand.

"Not for hours yet. We've still church this evening," Remington reminded, as he shifted in his seat, allowing Holt to pillow more comfortably against him. "But I don't imagine a couple of winks could be of any harm." Another yawn was accompanied by a lazy nod of his son's head. He was fooling neither his son nor himself as Holt would have fallen to sleep, permission or no. He looked up sharply when Christos suddenly let loose with a short, loud laugh.

"I must say, Xen, there are times I still can't quite believe it. You. A father!" Remington's eyes narrowed on his brother and his lips parted to issue a sharp retort, but the click of Elena's tongue stopped him from speaking.

"I do not know why you say this," she scolded, lightly. "Children have always been drawn to our Xenos, even when he was a child himself. No, it is not our Xenos who I believed would never experience the joys of fatherhood, but you." Christos guffawed, but any response he had was stayed when Sophie appeared before Elena. Elena held her ample arms wide open, and Sophie took her up on the silent invitation, negotiating her way up into the woman's lap then carefully covering herself with a sampler quilt that featured a snow white background, various shades of purple complimented by greens and pinks.

"It's so pretty," Sophie complimented, stroking the cover with a hand.

"It's called a quilt," Laura educated. "And I'll be you a quarter Yaya made it with her own hands, just like she once did for your Da when he was little." That quilt currently resided on the small, single bed that would belong to Holt when they returned to Greece in June. Elena gave Sophie a firm hug.

"A labor of love," she confirmed. Sophie wrapped her arms around Elena's neck and hugged her back.

"Efcharistó, Yaya. Se agapó."

"And have you and Papa reminding me daily for the remainder of my days of the grandchildren you were waiting upon?" Christos continued as though he'd never stopped speaking. He laughed again. "Peace would have been reason enough for fatherhood!" He wagged a finger at his mother. "And don't think Zeth and I haven't seen that look in your eyes of late. Papa's as well."

"Look? What is this look?" Marcos demanded to know, thoroughly baffled.

"That 'when will our next grandchild be arriving' look," Christos accused with a smile. "Thank the good Lord you can now turn that look upon L—" He inhaled sharply when a pair of fingers sharply pinched the flesh of his side. While Laura had seen Helena deliver the pinch, she silently appreciated that her sister-in-law's placid expression had never wavered. "…upon Xenos and Laura," Christos corrected, recognizing his near gaffe. Still, he couldn't help the laugh when he saw all the color had drained from Jacoby's face.

"Us?!" Laura exclaimed, feigning shocked disapproval. "Don't drag us into it!" It was not common knowledge amongst family and friends that she was no longer able to conceive… and she had no desire to share that bit of news now. Lina, who did know, eyed her brother.

"You only have the three," Christos continued, good-naturedly. "How much trouble could one more be, a baby at that?"

"Only?" Remington snorted. "As Laura so wisely pointed out several years back, we're already outnumbered three to two!" Sophie perked up at the conversation around her.

"Are we getting a new baby?" she wondered.

"NO!" Laura and Remington said, emphatically, in unison. Sophie slumped back against Elena's bosom with a sigh.

"Oh."

"Just think, Xen—"

"It seems to me, if Lina would find a suitable mate, the three of us would be off the hook," Remington noted, with a wide grin, barely flinching when Laura's elbow landed squarely in his ribs. "Laura knows any number of eligible bachelors that might fit the bill. I should know," he added, wryly, "They once had an annoying habit of popping up, threatening to derail my own aspirations. Still, most seem to be nice enough chaps. Perhaps Laura might make introductions," he suggested. Jacoby flashed his teeth at the ally who seemed intent on forcing his hand.

"I'd prefer she not," he dissented. Livvie joined Thomas in his lap, while Farris and Eireen did the same with Christos and Helena and Laurie Beth plopped down on the couch next to Donald.

"You dare to presume you have a voice in what I choose to do?" Lina sniffed haughtily, from where she sat on the couch across from him. She was still vexed that her plan to make him jealous with her announcement of a mysterious visitor coming to Vail had failed, dismally. She pretended eager interest when she turned to Laura. "Whom might you have in mind?" Laura's mouth opened and closed a pair of times, as her eyes moved from Lina to Jacoby.

"I think that's a question for your brother, since I have no idea who it is that he means," she demurred, tossing the proverbial ball right back into her trouble-making husband's court.

"Well, this isn't how I'd hoped to do it," Jacoby announced, "But it looks like I don't have a choice if I don't want the two of you…" he looked pointedly from Remington to Christos, "…to blow it." Lina's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he approached her.

"And what is it they might… 'blow'?" she asked, coolly.

"This." Withdrawing the ring box from the pocket of his khaki's, he opened the lid it as he descended to a knee.

"No way!" Laurie Beth burst out, leaning as far forward as she could in her seat, the scene making her teenage heart beat a little faster.

"Melina Euphrosyne Androkus…"

 _Euphrosyne?_ Laura mouthed to Remington. Raising his brows, his lips twitching with amusement, he gave a single, short nod.

"…Will you marry me?" Jacob finished.

"Oh my God, ohmygodohmygodohmygod," Laurie Beth babbled. _Best Christmas ever!_ she silently declared. She'd be the envy of her friends when she told of the man who'd gotten down on a knee and proposed over vacation.

"About time!" Mildred exclaimed with a clap of her hands.

Catherine's hand flew upwards to press her fingers against her lips.

Remington and Christos sunk back into their seats, smug smiles upon their faces, congratulating themselves for pressuring Jacoby into 'popping the question.'

Elena gasped with pleasure.

Marcos laughed.

And Melina…

Scowled.

"No."

Laurie Beth leapt to her feet, prepared to congratulate the couple when what Melina said registered. She flumped back down on the couch, stunned.

"No? Whaddya mean, _no_?" she protested.

"Laurie Beth…" Donald warned in an undertone.

"Melina…" Jacoby drew out her name in a pained tone. He'd considered this might happen given he'd never met a more stubborn woman. Yet, he'd dared to hope she'd make it easier on him considering their audience. But, of course not, because it was Lina.

"Why? Why do you wish us to marry?" she challenged. Exasperated, he couldn't help the roll of his eyes.

"Apparently I want you to drive me crazy until the end of time," he huffed. "Because I love you and want to create a family with you. Why else?"

"Your actions say otherwise," she sniffed, crossing her arms and turning her head. His temper began to simmer when he recognized what the thorn in her side was this time.

"Tell me you are not seriously refusing because I called your bluff," he asked, crossly. "I knew you weren't reuniting with an old boyfriend here. Sure, you were angry with me, but it's not in your character to run off with another man. You'd think I'd be given credit, not be penalized, for having that confidence in you," he finished with the gripe. She softened slightly.

"I wouldn't have been angry had you not spouted such nonsense," she grumbled.

"What nonsense?!" he protested. "All I said was I like the idea of coming home to you every night!"

"Because women belong in the home, yes!?" she glowered. Remington leaned his head in to whisper next to Laura's ear.

"Where, I wonder, have I heard that particular grievance before, hmmmm?"

* * *

" _ **Are you saying a woman's place is in the home?"**_

* * *

"I never said that!" Jacoby defended vociferously. "I only meant I normally work much longer hours than you do!" Laura snorted a soft laugh and this time it was she who whispered into Remington's ear.

"Words never uttered by you without complaint."

* * *

 _ **"I…I…I wasn't born for desk work, Laura. I mean, my fingers are shredded with paper cuts. My skin is turning a florescent green. Maitre d's are beginning to forget my face. Whatever you're doing, Laura, it's destroying me!"**_

* * *

"I won't leave my job," Melina informed Jacoby.

"And I never asked you to! Now, damn it, Melina, will you marry me or not?"

"The proposal every woman dreams of," Remington mumbled into Laura's ear.

"It's still an huge improvement over 'I'm going to be deported in an hour, so let's hop on that tuna boat and marry, what do you say?'" she shot back, sotto voiced. _Oops!_ He stepped into it on that one, and knew it.

"Bloody hell, Lina," Remington interjected, if for no more reason other than to evade Laura's accusation, accurate though it might be, "Stop being so bloody stubborn and put the poor bloke out of his misery already."

"Language, Xenos," Elena scolded. Laura couldn't help the snicker that passed her lips, as Remington squirmed in his seat and his face infused with color.

"My apologies, Elena," he offered contritely.

"I stand with Xen," Christos offered. "Stop playing these silly games and answer the man," he chastised. Lina glowered at her older brother in answer, before turning back to Jacoby.

"And should we have children? What then?" she asked with narrowed eyes.

"Then we'll do what Laura and Remington have done!" he vowed. "They have three of the happiest, most well-adjusted children I've ever met, and they rely on family and a nanny to lend a hand. We can do the same if that's what you want." He dared to reach for her hand, embracing it when she didn't pull away. "Don't you want what your brothers have? A home, a family, a partner who not only respects but loves you?" She relented a little more.

"You don't believe in marriage," she reminded him.

"I didn't," he corrected, enunciating the past tense, "Before I met you."

"And now?" He laughed softly.

"Look around you," he suggested. "There is more than a century in years of happy marriages, here, in this room alone and I don't see evidence that any one of those marriages is in danger of ending. With the right person, they're possible." He held out the ring box again. "Marry me, Lina." He held his breath as she studied him, as did the onlookers, the only sound coming from those seated the frantic tapping of Laurie Beth's foot as she anxiously awaited the answer. This was better than watching a movie, she firmly decided.

Lina drew in a deep breath and time seemed to freeze in Jacoby's mind. He swallowed hard as her lips parted to speak.

"Okay." Even though it was the answer he'd been hoping for, he wondered for a moment if he'd imagined she'd acquiesced.

"Okay?" The question made her face light up, and this time when she answered, the single word was full of conviction.

"Yes." Not taking a chance she'd change her mind, he slipped the ring over her finger, then pulled her up from the couch and landed a scorching kiss on her lips.

Laurie Beth launched herself from the couch with a whoop.

"This is totally awesome!" she declared.

As rounds of well wishes and congratulations were offered to the couple, Remington pushed himself from the couch, adjusting the still sleeping Holt so that his head lay on his father's shoulder.

"Awwww, Boss, why don't I put the little guy to bed, huh?" Mildred offered.

"Thank you for the offer, darlin', but we'll be getting ready for church before you know it," he declined. She openly laughed a him.

"I hate to break it to you, but the only thing Little Man will be worshipping tonight is his pillow." He grinned in answer.

"That may be so, but we can't very well leave him snuggled up amongst his covers here alone, now can we?"

"Who said anything about him being alone?" Mildred asked, plopping a fist on her hip. "Rusty is a dyed in the wool Protestant. We were planning on staying here and watching _It's a Wonderful Life_ , anyway, so why drag him out in the cold when he can be sleeping in his warm bed?"

"Are you sure?" he asked, concerned Mildred was sacrificing her evening for them.

"Hand him over, Buster," she insisted, slinging her arms open wide. As she settled Holt into her arms, she nodded her head towards the couch. "By the looks of things, Farris isn't up to church either. She's more than welcome to stay." Remington leaned in and bussed her on the cheek.

"Christos and Helena may just take you up on that, I think."

And, they did…

As did Frances and Donald when it was clear their three-year-old daughter wouldn't make it through services.

Children filled with sugary snacks that guaranteed they'd be awake for hours still, the Steele, Androkus, Piper and Fitzgerald families dressed in their Christmas finery and departed for midnight mass – but only after Marcos read aloud a rousing rendition of ' _Twas the Night Before Christmas_. It was after one when they returned, sprinkled in freshly falling snow, some of the younger children being carried, while others trudged inside then upstairs with heavy eyelids and leaden feet, even the approaching Christmas morning, and all it would bring, not enough to revive their flagging energy.

With Daphne and Eirene already asleep in the bed nearby, in the dim light cast by the nightlight, Remington and Laura tucked Sophie and Livvie into the bed they were sharing.

"Da, will Mr. Jacoby be our uncle now?" Livvie wondered.

"Mmm, yes, it seems he will," Remington quietly confirmed.

"Will Thea Lina live with Mr. Jacoby, like you and Da?" Sophie asked. The thought was a troublesome one to the seven-year-old. When Sophie had arrived at the Steele's withdrawn and seriously traumatized, Lina and Laura were the only people with whom she'd felt safe and Lina had been a staple in her life ever since.

"Well, if you mean will she live with us anymore, no, she won't," Laura answered softly, while tucking a strand of Sophie's hair back. "Thea Lina and Mr. Jacoby will live in their own house, but you'll still see her all the time." Her daughter's crestfallen look was quickly explained.

"Like Pappouli and Yaya?" Laura smiled down at her.

"No. Thea Lina and Mr. Jacoby aren't moving to Greece, sweet girl," she assured. "They might live very close or a little further away, like Aunt Frances does, and that's not so far, now is it?"

"Will she still play with us on the beach and pick us up at school sometimes?" Sophie pressed, trying to sort it all out in her young mind.

"There's nothing and no one that could keep her away," Laura promised. Sophie nodded her head, reassured.

"Now, Little Ladies Steele," Remington addressed the girls, earning their grins, "I suggest you sleep before someone…" he pointed skyward with his finger "…finds you still awake."

"Santa!" the girls burst out in joyous whispers.

"Not to mention the Tooth Fairy," Laura reminded. "Now, your tooth is under your pillow?" Sophie nodded her head vigorously.

"In the baggie you gave me."

With the tiny details wrapped up and the children all tucked in for the night, they were finally able to steal a little time alone. Laura kicked off her heels as they stepped into the room, then sat on the edge of the bed to roll down her hose.

"Euphrosyne?" she finally had the opportunity to ask again. The question brought a deep laugh from Remington.

"One of the three Kharites and the goddess of good cheer, mirth, merriment and joy in Greek mythology," he expounded. "A hazard of the Greek tradition for naming your children: They might get hung with a moniker that will lead them to many rounds of fisticuffs in the play yard."

"And does Lina? Despise it?" she asked as she stood and crossed the room to her closet where she tossed her hose in the hamper and set her shoes on a shelf.

"With a vengeance. I'm surprised she didn't refuse Jacoby's engagement for that alone," he laughed again as he stepped into his closet and hung up his suit jacket then tie.

"Did Zeth and Christos get 'hung with a moniker' they dislike as well?" She jumped when his hand slipped around her waist. She hadn't heard him come up behind her.

"Zeth's isn't too terrible. Efraim," he provided as he eased her out of the closet and back into the bedroom.

"Efraim… Efraim…" she pondered, as she removed her earrings then dropped them into her jewelry box. "I rather like it. And Christos?" The question drew another laugh, as he popped the cork on the bottle of champagne he'd left chilling in the room before they'd left for church.,

"Oh, I don't know if I should say," he teased.

"It can't be that bad," she insisted, necklace and bracelet following earrings into the jewelry box before she closed the lid. When she turned around, he waited with a glass of champagne held in each hand. "Thank you," she said, as she took an offered flute from him. He waited until she looked up at him, then raised his brows and flashed a goofy smile.

"Charalampos." Mirth bubbled past her lips.

"You're joking," she accused.

"Why don't you give it a try," he suggested. "His reaction is quite… impassioned."

"I just might," she grinned. "Toast?"

"To another dozen Christmas Eves just like this one," he offered. Smiling wide, she tapped her glass to his, then slipping her arm through his, enjoyed a sip of the cool liquid.

"I'm not quite sure how we'd arrange an engagement each year," she noted. Taking a long draw of his champagne, he set the glass down atop the dresser, then stepped behind her and slid an arm around her waist.

"I wasn't speaking of the engagement," he murmured, as his head dipped down and his lips wandered down the side of her neck while the fingers of his other hand worked the zipper of her dress downwards. Reaching her arm behind her, she cupped the back of his head in her hand as shivers coursed down her spine.

"Oh, and what did you enjoy the most about today?"

"Other than waking with you in my arms?" he hummed. _Oh, this is going to be good_ , she silently acknowledged. Of course, his Christmas Eve love making always held a certain… richness… to it.

"Other than," she confirmed. With a shrug of her shoulders, her dress fell to the floor, leaving her in only the teddy she'd worn beneath. Stepping out of the frame of his arms, she took his hand in hers and led him toward the corner of the bedroom where the Christmas tree he had installed annually for her stood.

"I think it has to be the part where Jacoby called the children happy and well-adjusted," he told her, honestly, watching as she crossed the room to the bed, to tug off the comforter. He helped her spread it out on the floor next to the tree, then waited while she tossed a pillow atop the bedding. There was a time they wouldn't even have been concerned about comfort, but they were older now and didn't need creaking joints… or the far more likely rug burn - from their antics come morning. "Now, where were we?" he asked, gathering her in his arms again when she finished.

"Right about here, I think." Pressing up on her toes, with her eyes wide open, she touched her lips to his as her hands reached for the buttons on his shirt. A hand slipped into her hair and another cupped her neck, and with an appreciative hum he sampled her lips a pair of times.

"Although I must admit, I hope we're in Greece the first time Jacoby is sent off to Ioseph by Elena," he shared as he peppered kisses along her brow. The thought of that visit made her laugh.

"I couldn't agree more. It would be a nice change to have Ioseph focused on 'saving the mortal souls' of someone other than ourselves." Tugging his shirt from beneath the waist of his pants, she drew splayed hands up his stomach and over his chest. "Mr. Steele?"

"Yes, Mrs. Steele?" She stroked a hand over his shoulder and around his neck, to toy with the hair at the nape, smiling when goosebumps rose on his skin. Some things never changed, most notably how he responded to a gentle touch. Soft brown eyes met his blue ones.

"Taispeáin dom." Gobsmacked. Each time she spoke in his native tongue, he was left utterly gobsmacked.

"Ah, mo ghrá, Beidh mé," he vowed in a murmur, then his lips covered hers…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Christmas Day arrived when Christmas Eve had barely ended for Remington and Laura. They'd prolonged their love making that morning until neither could hold out any longer, then their flesh had quaked in unison. It had taken an amazing presence of mind for them to drag themselves up off the floor, find something suitable to wear, and then play Santa and Tooth Fairy, before they'd at last tumbled into bed.

Holt arrived first peeking through the slightly open bedroom door, then dashing across the room and scrambling up into bed next to Laura. She and Remington barely stirred when their son joined them, rousing just enough for Laura to lift the covers for the little boy and for Remington to sling his arm over wife and son. It seemed their eyes had no sooner closed than Livvie and Sophie arrived in jubilant form.

"She came! She came! The Tooth Fairy came!" Sophie chortled, waving a bill in the air as she scrambled up onto the bed, crawling across it on her knees driving a wedge between Laura and Remington before sitting down. It took every bit of will power Laura's sleep deprived brain possessed to quash the impulse to roll her eyes when she saw the denomination on that bill.

"And feeling _very_ generous," Laura observed, feigning excitement. "Twenty dollars. That's considerably more than the going rate of _a dollar._ " The evening before, it was decided Laura would play Santa while Remington took on the guise of the Tooth Fairy, given he was the master of sleight at hand. She'd considered, briefly, advising him on the standard monetary value of a tooth, but had unwisely decided to give him the opportunity to determine a reasonable sum. _Lesson learned._

Remington scrubbed at his face with his hands and blinked several times before Laura's comment clicked in his mind.

"A bonus, perhaps, for losing your first tooth on Christmas Eve," he suggested, inwardly cringing at the thought of the inevitable lecture on not spoiling the children. For pity's sake, how was he to know what the going rate of a tooth was? It wasn't as if anything of these mythical beings had visited him when he was a tike.

"Santa came too," Olivia announced, plopping down on Remington's stomach, knocking his breath out of him with a whoosh. She folded her hands beneath her chin and opened her eyes wide in a plea. "Can we _pleaseeeee_ go see what Santa brang us?"

"Brought," Laura corrected automatically, as she sat up and drew her hands through her hair, "What Santa brought us. You may go _look_ at what's under the tree, but _only_ look until everyone else is downstairs and ready to open their presents." With a squeal, the girls – along with Holt – tumbled off the bed and raced from the room. Beside Laura, Remington groaned his disapproval at the early morning hour as he flung an arm over his eyes to block the offending light.

"My kingdom for a few more winks," he muttered. Laura looked down at him, surprised.

"A variation on Shakespeare instead of a movie reference? You must be tired," she assessed, amused.

"I'm getting old, Laura," he bemoaned. "What happened to the man that used to play until dawn and get up the next day, none the worse for wear?"

"You mean the man who used to sleep until noon and beyond after carousing all night?" she asked drily, as she flung back the covers and got out of bed. No apologies were offered or necessary, he merely dropped his arm and grinned at her.

"An excellent point, Laura. It's not a matter of age, at all, but sleep deprivation," he summarized, getting out of bed as well.

"Well," she drew out the word, as she pulled on her robe, "I suppose we could always stop… playing all night… if it's so taxing on you," she suggested with a smirk.

"Bite your tongue," he admonished, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her into his embrace. "I'll merely grab a wink or two at my desk."

"And that's different from any other day, how?" she questioned, resting her arms on his shoulders and linking her hands behind his head.

"Happy Christmas, Laura."

"Merry Christmas, Remington." Pressing up on her toes, she kissed him, letting her lips linger long enough to serve as a reminder of her appreciation for him.

By a little after seven – with the arrival of Abigail and Jacoby – Christmas morning was in full swing. Thomas, who arose early naturally, had carafes of coffee and pots of tea awaiting the adults, and glasses of apple juice, orange juice and milk for the children to select from. After gifts were opened, Remington – feeling remiss in not carrying his load of the cooking these past two days - evicted his father and Elena from the kitchen, and he, the children and Frances took charge of making breakfast for the masses. Distracted by tarts that needed to go into the oven when the muffins came out, eggs to be scrambled, and ham to be sliced, Remington didn't realize Laura had slipped out of the house only to return some twenty minutes later.

They'd opted to serve breakfast buffet style, serving the meal in the family room where a roaring fire warmed the room, the floor-to-ceiling windows acted as a frame for the snow falling outside, Christmas music wafted through the air… and the youngest children could play with their toys in between bites of food.

Several times during the meal, a glance at the man beside her would find him appearing a bit misty eyed at times, somber at others, but because he was fast with a smile and a with a quick witted response, no one other than she recognized his careening emotions. Watching him surreptitiously, she had no trouble identifying the look on his face in the moment directly before his mood would turn reflective. It was the same look that had been on his face when Ioseph had pronounced them 'well and truly wed', as Remington would say; it was the same look that had been on his face when they'd bought their first home together, when they'd discovered she was pregnant with Livvie, then later Holt; it was the smile that had been on his face after the births of each of those children, when they'd smiled the first time, had first walked and had first babbled…

"Da… dadadadada."

It was the look of simple joy.

Followed, inevitably, by those questions that would likely always haunt him…

 _What have I ever done to earn this?_

 _How much longer do I have before it's gone?_

The childhood that had shaped him and scarred him, much as her father leaving… then Wilson… had done her. It was ironic, really, that he never understood just how very alike they were, that he'd grow irritated that after twelve years those fears of being left were still with her.

Left or sent away, there was no difference – in either instance, you hadn't been enough for someone else, otherwise they wouldn't have turned away from you. The sense of loss, the destruction of trust, the self-doubt and self-loathing, the anger, the grief, the fear – It was all the same. And, after not being enough to someone else time and time… and time again, the instinct for self-preservation that kicked in, the impulse to shut yourself off from the world, the fear of taking a chance only to find you were deemed wanting yet again – it was all the same. Left behind or sent away, both left their scars.

And just as her ghosts of the past would always be with her in some manner, so would his. It was hard to trust in forever, after all, when life had taught you tomorrow you might find yourself alone. The key, they had found, was identifying when those ghosts were lurking and finding ways to chase them away.

To that end, after breakfast was over and she, Melina and Helena had worked in concert to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen, she went to their room to change, returning to the living room in a pair of ski pants and carrying her ski jacket, she tossed the jacket over the back of an unoccupied chair then crossed the room to squat down before Livvie, Sophie and Holt.

"I'm in the mood for a snowman building contest," she shared, "What do you say?" With that simple suggestion, she'd turned them into her unwitting accomplices. With eager whoops, they launched to their feet and raced towards the stairs to get dressed to go outside. Their chatter about a snowman building contest quickly reached the ears of the other children, both young and old, and before long the youngest of the Steele's guests, along with a pair of adults, were spilling out the front door of the house, declaring teams.

"Sleds!" Livvie was the first to shriek. "Santa brought us sleds!"

The announcement had Remington stepping down onto the front walkway, his boots crunching on the snow to take in the line of a dozen flexible flyers, toboggan's and tubes festooned with large red bows, lined up across the lawn. Speechless, he drew a hand over his mouth and watched as the teens took charge, each pairing with a younger child and traipsing to the west side of the house where the long slope of the lawn made it the ideal sledding landscape.

Jack Frost nipping at his nose as snow flurries lightly descended from the skies. The laughter of the children as they flew down the hill then trudged back upwards to go again. The good-natured taunts of his older nieces and nephews as they challenged one another to races. Family and friends, just beyond the glass, gathered in the family room before the fire as the Christmas tree's lights twinkled nearby. It was, he assessed, the Christmas he'd always dreamed of – and more - but never believed he'd have.

He opened an arm invitingly as Laura approached, and she tucked herself next to his side.

"Thank you," he told her in a hushed tone. He hadn't a doubt the gifts on the lawn were not only Laura's doing, but for him. It was one of things he loved about her: The way she saw the little things others might miss. And how often had he been the beneficiary of that mind for details? She tilted her head back and smiled up at him.

"How could it be _The Story of the Sled_ without the sleds?"' she teased lightly, trying to nudge him out of his pensive mood. He shook his head slowly.

"This isn't _The Story of a Sled,_ Laura," he dissented, "It's so much more." Palming her cheek, he stroked a glove covered thumb against her cheek and peered down at her intently. "It's _our_ story." The soft smile that lifted her lips and warmed her brown eyes, left him leaning in. His lips had barely settled over hers when…

"Mommy, I can't do-ed it!" Holt called for help. Abandoned by the older cousins, Holt, Livvie and Sophie were trying to drag the toboggan back up the hill on their own. Remington and Laura were both chuckling when their lips parted and she stepped out of his embrace.

"Duty calls," she grinned at him over her shoulder, as she jogged towards the children.

"Alright, Little Man, hop on," Laura instructed when she reached the children. Holt scrambled onto the toboggan, as she stepped between Livvie and Sophie and grabbed the towline in both hands. "Girls, let's show the boys we don't need their help. On three. One…"

Remington shoved his gloved hands into the pockets of his ski jacket as the scene before him played out.

"Two… Three…"

The toboggan jerked forward, making Holt tumble to his back, his legs sticking up in the air. The little boy's joyous laughter could be heard all the way across the lawn to where his father stood. Holt's _Story of a Sled_ would be the memory of this – happiness, security, joy and laughter, showered with an abundance of love by the people who would never find him wanting.

It was this scene next he would draw – Laura in the lead, pulling the bulk of the weight of the toboggan, the girls – their faces a picture of concentration - a half step behind her, doing their utmost to contribute, and Holt – having given up on his attempts to sit – now laying on his stomach, a wide smile on his face as he enjoyed the ride. It would be the perfect first sketch to hang on the walls here in Vail.

And he knew exactly what he would title it…


End file.
